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HE SAID HE WAS PROUD AND GLAD THAT “ ONE OF HIS 
BOYS” HAD WON IT.— Page 268. 



WITTER WHITEHEAD’S 
OWN STORY 


ABOUT A LUCKY SPLASH OF WHITE- 
WASH, SOME STOLEN SILVER, AND 
A HOUSE THAT WASN’T VACANT 


BY 

HENRY GARDNER HUNTING 

h 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

H. s. Delay 



NEW YORK 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 

1909 



LiBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two OoDies Received 

MAR 8 1909 

Oopyriilot Entry 
CLASS CU No* 


Copyright, xgog, 

BY 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 


Published^ March^ 1909 f , \ 

f , 

"IT 






.'y 



THE QUINN & BODEN CO. PRESS 
RAHWAY, N. J. 


TO 


E. J. H. 

A LOVER OF BOYS 





-1 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. In Defense of a Friend i 

II. A Meeting in the Dark 28 

III. Runaway Horses 56 

IV. A Secret to Keep 88 

V. Unanswered Questions 120 

VI. The Man Who Lighted Matches . . .150 

VII. A Strange Disappearance 174 

VIII. An Unconscious Jailer 200 

IX. At the Crack in the Door .... 227 

X. Two Kinds of Reward 249 































ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

He Said He Was Proud and Glad That “One of His 

Boys*' Had Won It ... Frontispiece ^ 
He Reached Out, Just Like Lightning, and 

Caught Hold of My Coat 20 

Evidently She Didn't Think of Such a Thing as 

That Any One Could Be There .... 34 

She Jumped so Hard and Her Face Turned so Red 

That I Was Almost Sorry I’d Come . . . 168 

And Then I Understood What a Foolish Thing I 

Had Done 246 



WITTER WHITEHEAD’S 
OWN STORY 

CHAPTER I 

IN DEFENSE OF A FRIEND 

I SUPPOSE if it hadn’t been for the whitewash- 
throwing, this story would never have been told. 
If Midgy — ^that’s what we called Fred Midgley — 
hadn’t plastered the back of my new uniform coat 
all over with the white, because I wouldn’t let 
him bother little Rick Neufer, I never would have 
been back of the packing-cases in the shipping- 
room, cleaning it off; and so I never would have 
heard the things I did hear, and wouldn’t ever 
have been mixed up in all the trouble about the 
robberies. 

We were all wagon-boys at Fleming’s big de- 
partment store. It’s one of the biggest in the 
city, and there are a good many of us — I should 


2 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

think as many as sixty or seventy. Every wagon 
that delivers goods to customers has either two 
or three boys who ride with it. One drives and 
the others carry the packages from the wagon to 
the houses or flats where they are addressed. We 
all wear a uniform of dark green, with caps that 
have “ Fleming’s ” in gold letters on the front, so 
that anyone can tell, wherever they meet us, what 
store we came from. 

The shipping-room is a very big place, in the 
basement under the store. It is a long room, full 
of iron pillars, that are whitewashed and that 
hold up the first floor and the building above. 
The room always has a lot of boxes in it, packed 
and empty, and the packers are always working 
and hammering and sawing there. We always 
have to report there mornings to Mr. Farley, who 
is the room-boss, and there’s where we have to 
work when the wagons are in and being loaded. 
That is, we help load the wagons. 

I was a new boy myself then. I’d only been 
there a little while — about a week, I think. That 


In Defense of a Friend 3 

was the time father had broken his leg and had 
to sit in a chair for six weeks, and I had to stop 
school and help mother make money enough for 
us all. I just happened to be lucky and got that 
job. And Rick, he was a new one, that very day 
that Midgy began to pick on him, and it made 
me mad, because I knew it wasn’t fun being a new 
boy and, besides, Rick was little. 

It was a mean trick of Midgy’s to put white- 
wash on me. I might have known he’d do some- 
thing like it though, for you don’t have to know 
some boys very long before you know just what 
they will do. He and I had had a little fuss 
before about something — I’ve forgotten what — 
and he didn’t like me anyway. So when he was 
trying to cut the buttons off Rick’s coat, just to 
get him into trouble with Mr. Farley, and I came 
in and told him to stop, he was so mad he’d do 
anything he could to me. When I turned to talk 
to Rick, he hit me in the back with the whitewash 
brush which some men had been using in the base- 
ment. He ran, though, right away, up the stairs 


4 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

and out to the wagons at the curb, and when I’d 
taken off my coat and had seen how he’d smeared 
it all over with the stuff, I ran after him. But I 
ran right into Mr. Farley’s arms, at the first land- 
ing, and he thought we’d been fighting and made 
me go back and, afterwards, when he saw the 
whitewash that had been spilled on the floor, he 
thought I’d done that, too, and blamed me for it. 

I didn’t tell about Midgy. You can’t very well. 
Every fellow thinks it isn’t square to tell, and it 
isn’t, but sometimes it’s awfully hard not to, when 
you’re blamed for something the other fellow did. 
Of course, if the other boy is square, he’ll tell 
himself, when you’re blamed, but sometimes he’s 
just glad that you are caught instead of him, 
and he keeps still and lets you have all the trouble. 
That’s a good deal worse than telling on anybody 
else. 

But Mr. Farley didn’t see my coat, for Rick 
Neufer picked it up and ran around behind the 
packing-cases with it when he saw Mr. Farley 
coming. Rick was afraid I’d be discharged, if 


In Defense of a Friend 5 

the room-boss saw the coat, and I guess I would, 
because they are very particular about how you 
keep your uniform and they don’t let you ex- 
plain very much when anything happens. 

Well, Rick and I were around behind the cases 
together. He’s a little German, with hair almost 
white, and curly all over his head. And he always 
laughs at you when he talks, and his eyes just 
sort of sparkle so that you can’t help laughing, 
too, and liking him. His name is really Fred- 
erick, but he had a funny way of talking, pro- 
nouncing words just a little different from our 
way, and yet trying to be so proper, that it’s very 
funny, the first time you hear him. He said his 
name was Frederick. Father says that is putting 
the accent on the last syllable, and it means just 
saying the last part of the name harder than the 
rest of it. So that was why we all called him 
Rick, from the start. Some of the boys started 
to call him “ Whitehead,” but that happens to 
be my real name — Witter Whitehead — so they 
stopped and called him Rick. 


6 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

Most people think Witter is a funny name for 
a boy. It is, I guess, but I was named for a 
Mr. Witter who was a friend of father’s when 
I was a baby. I remember Rick was talking 
about it that day behind the boxes, for we really 
talked quite a long time there, and about lots of 
things, while I worked cleaning my coat. But 
right in the middle of when I was telling him 
about father’s breaking his leg and all that, the 
number of Rick’s wagon was called and he had 
to go, and it was right then that Mr. Farley 
caught him. 

I remember just how it sounded and what they 
said. I could hear it through the boxes. 

“Well, sir, where’d you come from?” That 
was the first thing I heard after Rick left me, but 
I knew Mr. Farley’s voice and I knew Rick was 
in trouble in a minute. 

Rick didn’t say anything, and I could tell right 
away that He was keeping still because he didn’t 
want me to be seen till I got the coat cleaned up 


once more. 


In Defense of a Friend 7 

“ What were you doing behind those boxes ? ” 
asked Mr. Farley. 

“Nothing,” Rick said then, and I nearly 
laughed. It sounded so sort of scared and 
squeaky. But I was sorry right away, for Mr. 
Farley was meaner than I thought he could be. 
He isn’t a mean man generally, only sharp and 
quick. 

“ Tell me what you were doing back there, or 
I’ll shake you out of your shoes ! ” Mr. Farley 
said, and his voice went all hoarse, just like when 
you have a cold. 

It seemed very queer to me that he should make 
such a fuss about Rick’s being back of the boxes. 
I’d been in there before and so had the other 
boys, a good many times, I guess. There couldn’t 
be anything wrong about that, I thought, and I 
commenced to believe that maybe Mr. Farley 
wasn’t so square a man as I’d thought. But 
Rick’s answer was funny, the way he said it. 

“ I go in there to make a hide,” he said. 

“ To what ? ” asked Mr. Farley. 


8 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“ Hide,” answered Rick. 

“ Hide what?” 

” Nothing,” Rick said again. 

“ What are you talking about, you little duf- 
fer?” Mr. Farley asked. He was angry quick, 
too, for he thought Rick was making fun or tell- 
ing lies about it. 

“ What’s that — duffer ? ” Rick asked, and it 
sounded so funny to me, just then, that I nearly 
laughed out loud. Rick was always asking ques- 
tions like that when he didn’t know all the words 
you said to him, because he wanted to learn and 
to be just exactly proper. But Mr. Farley didn’t 
know that, of course. 

“ Don’t be smart, now,” he said. “ Wake up 
and tell me why you were behind those boxes.” 

But Rick wouldn’t answer then. He told me 
afterwards that he didn’t know what to say that 
wouldn’t let Mr. Farley know about me and the 
whitewash on my coat. So he just kept still. 

“You won’t say anything?” asked the room- 
boss. 


In Defense of a Friend 9 

And then, as Rick still kept quiet, he suddenly 
turned, and I heard them going together around 
toward the end of the long row of boxes, and 
Mr. Farley said, ‘‘ Very well, we’ll look and see.” 

It wasn’t funny then, for I didn’t want to get 
caught. I grabbed my coat and jumped up on 
one box, quick as I could, and then I climbed and 
crawled into a big box there and waited, and in 
just a minute Mr. Farley came down behind the 
cases with Rick. 

‘‘ Well, are you going to tell me, or aren’t 
you ? ” the boss kept asking. Right under me, 
almost, they stopped again, and he asked Rick the 
same question and I heard him shake the little 
fellow hard, and it made me awfully sorry, for 
it was to save me Rick was keeping still. But 
I couldn’t see how he could blame Rick, just for 
coming in back there, and he would be likely to 
blame him just as much, if he found me, so I 
thought I’d better keep still. 

But Rick wouldn’t say a word. He knew I 
must be in one of the boxes there, of course, and 


lo Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

he said to me that night that he thought Mr. 
Farley knew he had some secret about the place 
because he was so suspicious. I was surprised 
then, because Mr. Farley made such a great deal 
of it, for it seemed a very small thing anyway, but 
I could only wait till they went away again before 
I could move. 

Well, they went away after a while. Rick be- 
gan to cry before long. He’s such a little fellow 
he couldn’t help it, and I guess Mr. Farley hurt 
his arm when he shook him. But just as they 
went, I found out a very queer thing that made 
me stay quiet and look and think quite a while. 
It was light enough back in behind the boxes, and 
especially in the one I was in, for there was a 
window straight in front of it that opened out 
on the side-street pavement. It wasn’t a high 
window, just a low, narrow one, that could be 
swung up, to open it, and fastened to a hook 
on the beam above. But it wasn’t the window I 
thought about ; it was what I found in the box. 

When they had gone out of hearing, I turned 


In Defense of a Friend 1 1 

around to get my coat that I had thrown back 
in the box, and I saw, lying in a corner, a little 
heap of things, all huddled up, just as if they’d 
been thrown there, too. And they were a kind 
of things that I knew couldn’t ever have been 
left in the box by accident, because it was a dry- 
goods box and the things were watches and rings 
and some lace and chains and some silver things. 
They lay there, just half covered with some shav- 
ings, as if somebody had put them there in a 
hurry and only partly hidden them. 

I was so surprised I didn’t know what to think, 
at first. Nobody would ever put things there, I 
thought, if they didn’t want to hide them very 
safe. The box was away in the back of the pile 
and probably wouldn’t be used for a long time, 
so that was one reason why anyone might hide 
things in it. But, if they had to hide things like 
that, it looked, right away, as if the things must 
have been stolen, and just as soon as I thought 
of that I got very much excited, for I couldn’t 
help believing it was so. 


12 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

I looked and looked at them a long time be- 
fore I even touched them. Somehow I didn’t 
want to have anything to do with them, right 
from the beginning, for I knew, if they were 
stolen, the store people might be looking for them 
right then, and that, if they weren’t stolen, I 
hadn’t any business to touch them. And then, 
all at once, I thought perhaps these things had 
something to do with Mr. Farley’s acting so queer 
with Rick, insisting and insisting about his telling 
why he went behind the boxes. 

I don’t know why I did, finally, pick up some 
of the things and look at them. Father says 
now that it was curiosity. He laughed at me 
when he read what I wrote here first about this, 
and then told me just to say it was my curiosity. 
I guess that was it, too, all right. Anyway, I 
looked at some, and, at last, I looked at all of the 
things and turned them all over and wondered 
and wondered what to do. And I was so busy 
that I’d almost forgotten about thinking of get- 
ting away and out, while I had a chance, when 


In Defense of a Friend 1 3 

I heard some voices coming again. One of 
them I didn’t know, but the other one was Mr. 
Farley’s once more. 

“ It was in here,” he was saying. “ The boy 
wouldn’t tell me what he was here for, and, under 
the circumstances, I thought I’d better let you 
know.” 

“ Well,” the other man said, “ I don’t know 
that your boy knows anything about what we’re 
looking for, but I don’t know that he doesn’t, 
either. I’ll search this place here, anyway.” 

I was frightened. Whoever the man was with 
the boss, I was as sure then, as if they’d said so, 
that they were looking for the goods or to find 
out about the robbery, and that was just what they 
were doing, as I found out afterwards. And the 
man who talked with Mr. Farley was a detective. 
I expected they’d commence to search then, too, 
and I knew they’d find me in a minute, if they 
did, and, with all those things in the box with 
me, they would think I must be the thief. The 
detective commenced to walk along the space next 


14 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

to the wall and hit the boxes with a cane or some- 
thing he was carrying and then he came back, 
taking little jumps and looking in boxes on the 
second tier. 

“ Why do you look in the boxes? ” Mr. Farley 
asked. 

“ Can’t tell what we may find,” the detective 
answered. 

“ What do you expect to find ? ” 

“ I expect nothing and everything, in a case 
like this.” 

I thought that was a funny answer, but it was 
what he said. 

“ You don’t think anybody would hide in these 
boxes, do you ? ” asked Mr. Farley. 

“ Possibly.” 

“ It was the windows I thought of. I wanted 
to make the boy confess if he was guilty. It seems 
to me that someone must unfasten a window or 
something from the inside, and I’ve rather sus- 
pected it might be one of the boys.” 

“ Maybe. We’ll see about confessions when 


In Defense of a Friend 15 

the time comes,” said the detective. He talked a 
little as if he didn’t give Mr. Farley credit for 
knowing much or for being very sensible, and I 
guess it made Mr. Farley angry, for he sort of 
grunted and stopped talking. 

Then they both commenced to look again up 
and down the row, and I got back in my box 
as far as I could, hoping and hoping they might 
not look as far as that, but wondering what I 
could say, if they found me. 

“ Well,” the detective said, after a minute, “ I 
think I’ll go and get a couple of my men and 
make a thorough search through the basement 
here. It looks as if these boxes had not been 
disturbed for some time. It’s quite probable 
there are many possible hiding-places for man 
or goods down here.” 

“Yes,” said Mr. Farley, “it’s quite probably 
possible.” 

I guess he meant to make a little fun of the 
way the detective was careful not to say anything 
positive. But I was too much frightened by this 


1 6 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

idea, that they would come and look the boxes all 
over, to think much about anything else. I had 
to get out of there, if I could, before they came 
back, and I didn’t know how I would ever do it, 
for Mr. Farley would surely watch the only place 
where anyone could go out of the space behind 
the cases into the room. 

But just then, I looked up at the window and 
noticed that the catch which ought to hold it down 
was drawn partly back, and it made me think, 
all in a second, that I might get out that way, 
if I was quick. And without waiting, only just 
long enough for them to get out of sight, I 
reached over — it was easy — and slipped the bolt 
over. Next minute I climbed out to the pave- 
ment, right on the side street. 

Well, I thought somebody outside might notice 
me, and I was a little afraid, but when I looked 
up after I’d gotten fairly out, no one seemed even 
to have looked at. me. But just as I was almost 
ready to run around the corner and so back to the 
basement door and down again, I heard a funny 


In Defense of a Friend 17 

little noise right behind me, and looked down 
to see a man sitting on the pavement with black 
glasses on his eyes and holding a tin cup, but 

acting as if he knew as surely as could be that 

'V 

I was there. 

I thought I had frightened him. I could see 
that he was a blind beggar, and you know blind 
people hear better, almost always, than other peo- 
ple. Of course, he must know he was sitting 
against a stone wall and he would think it very 
queer for anyone to come suddenly out of it. 

“ You needn’t be afraid,” I said, walking 
around, away from the window. He turned his 
head towards me, and held out his hand. 

“ Where’d you come from? ” he asked. 

“ Out of the window,” I said. 

“ How did you happen to come up that way? ” 
he went on. 

“ Oh, I was just trying a new way,” I said. 
And then, all at once, it occurred to me that 
maybe, if he knew it was the store basement I 
had come out of, he might tell someone about 


1 8 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

it and they’d find out who I was and then it 
would be just as bad as if I’d been caught in 
the box. 

But I didn’t know what he meant to do. He 
was quiet a second, and then he turned his eyes 
right towards me, as if he could see. I stood 
still and watched him, for sometimes those beg- 
gars aren’t blind when they pretend to be. But 
in a minute, I could see that he was just listening, 
and then he put out his hand straight in front 
of him, as if he thought I was there, and whis- 
pered to me. 

“ Help me get up,” he said. “ I’ve got rheu- 
matism very bad to-day.” 

So I reached out and lifted while he got his 
feet under him, and he stood up. But he didn’t 
let go of my hand. He leaned back against the 
wall and pulled me close to him and gripped my 
fingers so tight that it hurt. 

“ Did you see anybody ? ” he asked. 

“ Anybody who ? ” I asked, because it seemed 
funny he should speak so. 


In Defense of a Friend 19 

“ Did you see anybody else here? ” 

“ No — only you.” 

“ Not a boy?” 

I thought of Rick, but I wasn’t going to tell 
on him, so I just said, “ I haven’t seen anybody 
near the window here, but I heard two men talk- 
ing together.” 

“ Two men? ” he said. “ Who were they? ” 

“ Mr. Farley, the room-boss, was one.” 

“ What were they doing ? ” 

I didn’t know just what to say. If I told him 
they were searching for a thief or for stolen 
goods it would be funny if he didn’t think maybe 
he ought to keep hold of me and turn me over 
to them. He was still holding me tight all the 
time, and if he hadn’t asked so' many questions 
I would have thought that he had that very thing 
in mind. But I couldn’t think of anything else 
true to tell him, and I wasn’t going to lie out 
of it. Father says a liar is a coward, anyway, and 
I gfuess probably that’s always about so. If you 
think about it, you always find out that your 


20 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

father knows. So I didn’t say anything for a 
minute. 

“ Were they looking for anything? ” the blind 
man asked. 

“ Yes,” I said. 

“What?” 

“ They didn’t tell me.” 

“ Were you with them? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Where were you? ” 

“ I was hid.” 

“ Oh ! ” He seemed to feel different for a 
second, and I felt his hand loosen on mine a 
little, so I suddenly jerked and got away. But 
I hadn’t any more than done it, before he reached 
out, just like lightning, and caught hold of my 
coat. It was so quick that I hardly knew he’d 
done it till I felt his fingers dig themselves into 
the folds of the coat, just like a cat’s claw, when 
she tries it on your trousers or your stocking, 
without scratching, but as if she wanted to show 
you that she can. 



HE REACHED OUT. JUST LIKE LIGHTNING, AND CAUGHT HOLD 

OF MY COAT. 








In Defense of a Friend 21 

That made me kind of mad, and I jerked hard, 
and then, when he didn’t let go, I got madder and 
frightened, too. 

“ You let go of me! ” I said, and I struck and 
pounded at his hand. 

“ Gently, gently, young man,” he said. “ Now 
don’t let’s quarrel — we’re going to be friends.” 

“ Well, you let go of my coat.” 

“ Wait. I want to tell you something. Did 
the men inside look at this window here ? ” 

That made me stop and think. Perhaps he 
knew something he could tell me. 

“ No,” I said. “ Do you know anything about 
it ? Do you suppose the thieves use it ? ” 

I didn’t mean to ask that question, for it made 
him understand just what I was thinking about. 
But it popped out, just like the noise does when 
you laugh in school, before you think. I felt his 
hand grow tight, all at once, and I was sure 
he took me for the thief. 

“ What do you know about thieves ? ” he asked, 
sharp. 


22 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“Nothing,” I said; “I was just hiding in 
the box and found the things there.” 

“ Oh, you found the things. You mean things 
hidden in the box ? ” 

“ Yes, watches and jewelry.” 

“ Of course,” he said. Then he stopped and 
seemed to listen again. “ Well,” he went on, 
pretty soon, “ I’ve been watching, too.” 

“ Oh ! ” I said. “ Are you looking for the rob- 
bers, too? ” 

“ Yes,” he answered, “ I am. I’ve known there 
was something wrong for quite a while. Are you 
sure you don’t know anything more about it ? ” 

“ No, honestly, I don’t know a thing,” I said. 
“ But are you a detective ? ” 

“ No,” he said. “ They’ve got detectives in 
the store, but I’m just keeping watch out here. 
They don’t know me, but I think I know how 
to get this thief.” 

He was smiling now. He had a beard that 
was rather long and not very well washed and 
combed. When he laughed — it was more like a 


In Defense of a Friend 23 

laugh than a smile, only he didn’t make any noise 
— he just opened his mouth and his beard dropped 
down against his coat, and he just sort of held 
it open a minute quiet, while a lot of wrinkles 
came around the corners, and then he closed it 
again quick and short, as if he had been yawn- 
ing. It was a funny laugh. 

But what he said made me wonder again. 
*‘You can catch the thief?” I asked. 

“ Yes,” he said, “ before they ever do.” 

“If you could,” I said, “ Mr. Fleming would 
probably give you a reward.” Mr. Fleming is 
the owner of the store, you know, and everybody 
says he’s a very generous man. 

“ Yes,” the blind man said, “ I know — that’s 
what I’m working for. But you mustn’t tell, 
now, for you’d spoil my plans. I thought maybe 
you were the thief, but I can see now you are 
honest. I wouldn’t tell anybody but you. How 
would you like to help me ? ” 

Well, that made me think differently about him 
right away. Of course, any boy would like to 


24 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

help catch a thief who was robbing a store where 
he worked, because it would be very exciting, 
and besides, the boss might give you a better 
place. So I said yes at once, for I couldn’t help 
believing that the blind man might know more 
than the people inside the store. Blind folks 
are so quiet and they hear and smell and feel so 
much better than we do that they learn things 
people don’t dream they know. All at once, 
it seemed to me maybe the blind man and I could 
capture or find out about the robber, and so it 
would make everybody think we had done well. 
I was awfully anxious to get a good place at the 
store quickly, too, because father and mother 
hadn’t very much money then and we didn’t 
know just how we could get along till father’s 
leg got well. So then, I told the blind man all 
about how I happened to be in the box and find 
the things, and we talked quite a little. But when 
I asked him if I ought to tell Mr. Farley where 
the stolen things were, he said no, not then, be- 
cause if we left them there, maybe the robber 


In Defense of a Friend 25 

would come after them and we would catch him. 
If the detective found them, why of course we 
couldn’t help that. 

It was quite a long time before I left him. 
He asked me my name and told me his, which 
was a queer one. 

You call me Moss,” he said, just Moss.” 

Mister Moss ? ” I asked. 

‘‘ No — just Moss,” he answered, and so I did. 

Well, when I got back to the shipping-room, I 
found that Mr. Farley was working around, as if 
nothing had happened, and the detective had not 
been back again yet to search. I learned that 
from a boy named Dib Web, whom I knew a little 
and who had seen the man the first time he came 
down to talk to Mr. Farley. Rick had gone out 
on the wagon and I didn’t see him again till I 
had made another trip, too, and it was almost 
night. Then I got him away quiet, and told him 
all I’d found out, because I didn’t want him to 
think I was a sneak, to keep still and let Mr. 
Farley blame him when he was just trying to 


26 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

keep me out of trouble. He felt all right about 
it, but he was all excited about the robbers. 

“ Don’t tell,” I said. “We want to catch the 
thief. You can help, but don’t say a word, for 
if anybody finds it out, it’ll spoil it all.” 

He said he wouldn’t tell, but he didn’t say he 
thought of going to look at the stolen things, and 
that is just what he did, a little later, when I 
was talking to Dib Web and we were getting 
ready to go home. Rick slipped away from me 
and, first thing I knew, I looked up and saw him 
slide in behind the boxes. I started across the 
room right away to make him come out, but just 
then Mr. Farley came downstairs and I saw him 
look at me sharp and I didn’t dare go in. A 
minute afterwards, three men came downstairs, 
and Dib whispered to me that the big one, with 
the yellow mustache, was the detective. They 
went right straight for the boxes, and just then 
the closing bell rang, and Mr. Farley ordered us 
all out of the shipping-room. 

I guess I was pretty near crazy all at once. I 


In Defense of a Friend 27 

knew in a minute that they were sure to catch 
Rick, and there seemed to be nothing I could do. 
But all of a sudden, I thought maybe, if I could 
make them do the wrong thing for a minute, he 
might get away. So I did the first thing I could 
think of. I walked down to the back stairs, 
where it was dark, and then suddenly hollered 
out, loud as I could, so everybody would hear me. 

“Stop, thief! Stop, thief! Help! Help! Mr. 
Farley ! Thief ! Help ! ” and I ran for the stair- 
way that leads up into the alley from the rear, 
where it is almost dark. And Mr. Farley turned 
right away and followed me, and then first one 
and then all the detectives ran, too, and the boys 
rushed after us, helter-skelter, down the room 
and up the stairs, and out into the alley where 
it was getting dark. And then I ran as hard as 
I could, for I, was a little ahead, and I jumped 
into a corner and found a doorway right behind 
it, and I went in and found a dark, still passage- 
way there, and so I shut the door and waited. 


CHAPTER 11 


A MEETING IN THE DARK 

It was so dark in the passageway that I 
couldn’t see a thing and I hadn’t any kind of 
an idea where I was or what sort of a place 
it was. It was so still, too, that I could hear 
the men and the boys out in the alley, running 
and calling. I found a key on the inside and 
turned it quick. Some of the boys came so close 
to my door that I held my breath for fear they 
would try to come in. I could hear their feet 
spat on the cobblestones, which were wet, though 
I don’t know where the wet came from. The 
boys were all calling to each other, 

“ Did you see him? ” “ Who was it hollered ? ” 
“What did he look like?” “Yes, I saw him,” 
and a lot of things like that. It made me laugh, 
for I knew, of course, they meant the thief I had 
yelled about, and there wasn’t any such person. It 

28 


A Meeting in the Dark 29 

made me think a little, too, because if I hadn’t 
really told them a lie, I had made them think 
something that wasn’t true, and I didn’t know, 
now, but maybe that wasn’t right. So I thought 
I would ask father about it. But I couldn’t let 
them catch Rick in that place behind the boxes 
with the stolen things, because I was sure that 
nothing I could say then would make them be- 
lieve he wasn’t guilty. 

But, pretty soon, they stopped running and I 
heard them begin to come back, and when the 
men passed where I was they seemed to be mad 
about it. 

“ Who was that boy that shouted ‘ Stop 
thief’?” one of them asked, just as they were 
in front of my door, and then I heard Mr. Farley 
say that he didn’t know. That surprised me, for 
I didn’t think about their not knowing who it 
was. I really hadn’t thought about it at all, but 
I was very glad then, for now they wouldn’t ever 
question me about it. But I didn’t have much 
time to think, for just as I was beginning to feel 


30 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

easy, I suddenly heard someone right outside the 
door, and next second the knob rattled and 
turned and the door cracked and snapped as 
somebody pressed against it. I could have hol- 
lered again just with fright, only I had to keep 
still. 

I pushed myself back in the corner as far as 
I could and kept perfectly quiet. I knew it was a 
man outside, because I could hear him make a funny 
noise, sort of half talking to himself, and yet it 
didn’t seem as if it could be one of the detect- 
ives. Then, pretty soon, he kept perfectly quiet, 
and I couldn’t hear anything at all. It seemed 
as if he must be just listening and listening, and 
so I breathed as low as I could, till I ached to 
get a big breath again. Still, there wasn’t a 
sound from him. I wondered if he was standing 
outside holding the knob and if he knew I was 
inside there and meant to wait till I had to come 
out. It made me sort of faint to hold down my 
breath so, and my heart beat and beat, just as 
a fellow’s does when he’s run hard a long ways. 


A Meeting in the Dark 31 

I hadn’t run very far and I had had time to get 
my breath again, so, of course, it was because I 
thought I was so likely to be caught. 

But it seemed very funny that he should be 
still so long, and I was commencing to wonder 
about it more than to be afraid, when I heard 
something else that I hadn’t been listening for 
at all, — a sound of something coming softly down 
the dark passage behind me. I could hear a 
scraping sound, like somebody’s slippers on the 
floor, very slow and careful, and then someone 
breathing hard and uncomfortable. 

I’ve heard people say that your hair is likely 
to stand up when you are frightened, but mine 
never did. I felt a shiver run up my back, clear 
up into my hair, and it seemed to take hold of 
the skin and draw it tight, and at the same time 
my heart just stopped beating, or seemed to, 
though father says it really doesn’t at such times, 
and I was ready to scream right out. I know 
how a girl feels when she screams over a fright 
now. She feels just as I did then, not able to 


32 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

do anything else, afraid and excited, and she can’t 
help it. I came pretty near doing it myself, and 
so I know. And I’m very sorry for a girl now, 
when she is frightened that way, and I guess 
you always do feel sorry for folks instead of 
laughing at them, when you’ve been through the 
same kind of thing yourself. 

But I just leaned flat against the wall and 
waited, because I couldn’t run. With the man 
outside and someone coming inside, there was 
only one chance for me, and that was to' keep 
still where I was, so I just pressed myself into 
the corner behind the door. It seemed a terribly 
long time before the person coming reached the 
door, and it was horrid to listen to that scraping 
noise and the hard breathing, but at last I could 
sort of feel in the air that somebody was close 
to me, and then was the hardest time of all not 
to yell and strike out and try to run. 

But just then the lock rattled and the key was 
turned, and in a second the door was opened 
and the light from some lamp outside shone in 


A Meeting in the Dark 33 

and helped what little was left of the daylight 
to show me who was at the door. And I was 
so surprised that I nearly spoke, when I saw just 
a little girl on crutches inside, and nobody at 
all in the alley. I couldn’t imagine where the 
man outside had gone, but he must have left 
without my hearing him. 

It was so nearly dark now that the girl couldn’t 
see anything in the hall, and evidently she didn’t 
think of such a thing as that anyone could be 
there. She looked out and all around in the alley 
and listened, leaning on her crutches, and I had 
a chance to see that she was pretty, but pale and 
sick-looking. She seemed very tired, too, as if 
just the trouble of coming down the passage on 
her crutches had tired her almost out. It made 
me sorry just to look at her, because she looked 
sort of weak and not very happy. 

But pretty soon she turned back, shut the door 
and locked it again, and then started off slowly 
up the hallway once more. I got so I could 
breathe better right away, and I felt like jump- 


34 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

ing and running, it seemed so good to move 
again. All I would need to do now was to open 
the door and run, and nobody would ever know 
that I had been there at all. I couldn't see any- 
thing after the door was closed, but I could hear 
the little girl's slippers drag on the floor, just as 
they did before. Then pretty soon the noise 
stopped all at once, and I couldn't hear a door 
or anything, so I supposed she was standing still. 
But after I'd waited and waited to hear her move 
again, I got so I couldn't stand it any longer 
and made up my mind to unlock the door softly 
and then open it quick and run. 

That seemed like a good plan, so I stepped for- 
ward without a sound, feeling along the door 
for the knob till I found it, and then I put my 
other hand down to turn the key. But I didn't 
seem able to find it. I felt all around, above 
and below the knob, and tried to remember where 
it had been. I'd found it easily enough when I 
first locked the door, but now I couldn't think, 
and I couldn't feel it either. And then, my 





EVIUExNTLY S?IE DIDN’T THINK OF SUCH A THING AS THAT 
ANY ONE COULD BE THERE. 


i 

! 


/ 


A Meeting in the Dark 35 

fingers suddenly ran right across the keyhole, 
and I knew the key was gone. 

I don’t know but I was almost as much fright- 
ened then as I had been before, for I was locked 
in, and I knew that the girl must have taken the 
key, for I would have heard it, if it had dropped 
on the floor. . Still, I got down on the floor and 
felt all around, hoping the way you do at such 
a time, even when you know there’s nothing 
to hope for, but I didn’t find it, and then I didn’t 
know what to do at all. 

I knew it must be getting late now, and I had 
to get out and go home. I always went home as 
early as I could, because mother worries so about 
me when I’m late. Sometimes, the wagons used 
to keep me out pretty late, Saturday nights espe- 
cially, and she used to wait up for me, and I felt 
sorry, because she had so much to do, sewing and 
taking care of father, too. I thought about her 
then and I thought how frightened she’d be if 
she could know where I was at that minute. For, 
if the people in the building where I was should 


36 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

find me, I’d be thought to be a sneak-thief or 
something, and if they didn’t — well, I couldn’t 
see how I was going to get through a locked door 
and get away. 

I thought about it a long time, but, at last, as 
everything was so still in front, I thought the 
girl must have gone, and I believed the only thing 
for me to do would be to go up the passage and 
find out what sort of place I was in. So I felt 
along the wall again, carefully as I could. I was 
mighty scared, for it isn’t any fun to be in a place 
where you don’t belong, when you don’t know 
anything about the people who live there, and 
when they are likely to be angry if they find you. 
Of course, almost anybody would be mad to find 
a person prowling around in the house, especially 
at night, and some people might shoot or call 
the police before they knew why you were there 
at all. I thought about that, and about what 
father and mother would think if I should be 
arrested. 

Every board I stepped on seemed to make a 


A Meeting in the Dark 37 

noise. One would creak and another one crack, 
just like a nail does sometimes in the house when 
it’s very cold weather. Each time there was a 
noise like that, I’d start and stop and wait, for 
I’d be sure somebody’d hear. But the house was 
just as still as if nobody was in it, and so, after 
a while, I went on without so much fuss. I didn’t 
think to count my steps to find out how far it 
was, but I thought it was a very long ways, 
indeed, for I stepped and stepped out slowly and 
carefully, feeling my way for fear there might 
be a downstairs or something. And then, all at 
once, my hand came against something soft that 
moved away the second I touched it, and I 
jumped as if somebody had shot a gun right in 
my face. 

But it wasn’t a person, as I thought at first, 
but just a curtain in a doorway, and the minute 
I found that out, I knew why I hadn’t heard any 
sound when the girl left the passageway. I 
pushed the curtain a little bit one side, too, and 
tried to see beyond it, but, though there was a 


38 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

little more light in the room I looked into, it was 
too dim to show me what sort of place it was, 
and it was just as quiet as the hall. I didn’t dare 
go in, for when I stepped my foot inside, there 
was carpet on the floor and that showed that it 
must be part of someone’s flat or house. 

I drew back pretty quick and felt along as 
far as I could reach from the doorway, to 
see whether the passageway went further. It 
seemed to, but the minute I started to take a step 
I tripped and fell right forward, and next minute 
I was on a flight of stairs that led up into the 
building. There seemed to be nothing to do but 
go up. It was no use to go back, and I was 
afraid someone would come out of the door I’d 
found, almost any minute, for I made a great 
racket when I tumbled down on the stairs. So 
I got down and crept up the stairs as fast as 
I could, on my hands and feet. 

Of course, always there is a front stairs and 
a back stairs in a building like that. It was a 
business block, mainly, I knew, for it must front 


A Meeting in the Dark 39 

on the street back of Fleming’s, which was a 
great business street, so I believed there must be 
a way through some upper hall, and I began to 
hope, pretty quick, that maybe this was my way 
out. I began to hurry and I was less careful 
about noise, and then in a minute I saw a light, 
faint, above, and I began to run up the last 
steps. 

Just then there was a noise downstairs and I 
heard someone come out in the hall, and then 
a man shouted out loud and with such a heavy 
voice that it rang in the hall just like when you 
holler in a barrel or down a well. 

“ Who’s there ? ” he said. 

I just ran harder. I didn’t dare stop then, and 
the minute he heard me, he started right up after 
me, calling and shouting: 

“ Who are you there ? What are you doing ? 
Where are you going ? Stop ! ” 

Oh, but I was afraid then. I stumbled and 
jumped and tried to run harder, and my feet 
seemed to get just as heavy as they seem, some- 


4© Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

times, when you try to run in your dreams. They 
just dragged. The stairs made a terrible crack- 
ing noise under the man’s feet and he came fast, 
as if he knew the way. 

But the top was close and I got there, just a 
second later, and then I could see just across 
a wide hall the head of some other stairs and 
a lamp burning dimly above them, and I ran 
across and jumped down those steps as if they 
were only doorsteps. In a minute I stepped 
wrong, too, and first I knew I was falling head 
first, and then over and over, down and down, 
till I reached the bottom. But I didn’t feel hurt 
then, and just got up and ran out in the street 
and through the crowd that was passing — for it 
was just at the crowded time — and got to the 
other side of the street. 

Well, it seemed to me nothing ever tasted so 
good as the air did, sharp and cold, and when 
I looked at the lights my eyes felt just the way 
they always do when you’ve been reading a long, 
long time and have forgotten everything else but 


A Meeting in the Dark 41 

the story, and then you suddenly look up and see 
everything natural around you and it doesn’t look 
natural at all. I was safe, for though I stopped 
and looked back then, nobody came out of the 
stairway after me, at all. 

I think I thought about Rick then for the first 
time since I shut the door in the alley. But I 
commenced to wonder right away what had be- 
come of him and whether he had gotten out of 
the place behind the boxes before the detectives 
got back. I looked up at a clock there was on 
the corner and saw it was nearly six o’clock, so 
I knew that the store must be closed and that it 
wouldn’t do any good to go back now and try 
to find out. I was pretty much worried, for if 
Rick was caught, they might put him in jail, I 
thought, and he wouldn’t have anybody who 
would know or care. I didn’t know anything 
about his people or where he lived, or I would 
have gone then to see if he was at home and 
then I would know, but I had to wait. 

I did walk around past Fleming’s, thinking I 


42 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

might see somebody who would know, even then, 
if Rick had been arrested, but nobody was around 
the store at all. Even the blind man, for I 
thought of him after a while, was gone from the 
place he had been sitting in, so there was noth- 
ing for me to do but to go home. 

But I thought about Rick. What if he had 
been caught? I had had a pretty exciting time 
and I was tired, too, but I thought more about 
Rick than anything else. It seemed pretty mean 
if a boy had to be believed guilty of things he 
didn’t do, just because he happened to be where 
the thing was done, or because circumstances hap- 
pened to look as if he did it. Father calls that 
circumstantial evidence, and he says sometimes 
men are sent to prison on that kind, and it has 
happened, even when they were innocent, father 
says. 

I got on the train to go home — I have to ride 
on the elevated road, for we live a long ways 
from Fleming’s store. And all the way home, I 
thought and thought about what I would do in 


A Meeting in the Dark 43 

the morning if I found Rick had been caught. 
I knew he would never say a word about me, 
because he hadn’t told about me that day when 
it would have helped him if he had. Of course, 
if he was caught, I would have to do something, 
for I had really got him into trouble. Really, 
too, he never would have been in the trouble 
at all if it hadn’t been for his trying to help 
me by hiding my coat from Mr. Farley, and so 
I made up my mind that, if they had found him 
back of the boxes, I would go straight to Mr. 
Farley and tell him all about it. 

But you never can tell how things are going 
to come out. Sometimes it seems as if it was 
hardly any use to plan, for things very often 
happen different from what you think they will, 
and that was so with me that time. 

Well, mother was keeping some supper for 
me, and I saw, right away, that she was very 
tired. Father was having a great deal of pain in 
his broken leg, too, and so I thought I wouldn’t 
tell them all about the things that had happened. 


44 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

because it might make them worry about me. 
Mother didn’t like it very well to have me work 
as a wagon-boy, anyway. She was always afraid 
I’d get hurt. So I went to bed pretty soon and 
kept all the things secret from them. I guess I’d 
have been pretty glad later if I’d told father 
about them. 

And next day at the store I found out just the 
very thing had happened that I was afraid of. 
They had caught Rick. He hadn’t taken the 
chance I gave him to get away from the boxes, 
and the detectives had found him right in the 
box where I’d hidden, with the stolen things 
beside him, and, of course, they tried to make 
him tell all about them then. The worst of it 
was, they had kept him all night at the police- 
station, and it wasn’t till almost midnight that 
they let his mother know where he was. And 
he was still under arrest. 

Dib Web knew all about it. He said he saw 
Rick caught, and that Rick wouldn’t answer 
hardly any questions and seemed to be afraid, and 


A Meeting in the Dark 45 

Dib told me they were going to take him up to 
Mr. Fleming’s office that morning and make him 
tell everything. 

“ But where’s Rick now ? ” I asked Dib. 

“ Over to the police station.” 

“ What— all this time? ” 

“Of course. You don’t think they’d let him 
go, do you?” 

That frightened me worst of all. It seems to 
me I hadn’t understood till just then how bad it 
was. But I went right to Mr. Farley as soon as 
he came down from upstairs. 

“ Mr. Farley,” I said, “ they arrested Rick 
Neufer last night, didn’t they?” 

“ How’d you know ? ” he asked me, and just 
at first that made me think he knew I was the 
one who had hollered “ Stop, thief ! ” But in a 
minute I understood. “ Do all the youngsters 
know?” he asked, looking anxious. 

“ I guess so,” I answered. “ One of the boys 
told me.” 

“ He did, eh? Well, I’ll have to tell them all 


46 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

to keep still about it, and don’t you talk about 
it.” 

“ I want to talk to you about it,” I said. 

He just stopped and looked at me, surprised. 

“ Rick hasn’t got anything to do with it,” I 
said. 

“ With what ? ” he asked, so sharply that it 
made me afraid to say too much. 

“ Well, he’s honest and square, I know,” I 
answered. 

“You do, eh? Well, maybe you do. I hope 
it’s so.” 

“ It is.” 

“ Well, I don’t know anything about it.” 

“ Are they going to make Rick go to jail? ” 

“Who told you that?” 

“ Dib — a boy.” I said it like that, for I nearly 
told Dib’s name, and then changed quick because 
I didn’t want to tell. 

Mr. Farley looked at me, and then, suddenly, 
he just laughed, as if he understood exactly what 
I had tried to do. But it made me like him, 


A Meeting in the Dark 47 

and I began to feel less afraid^ about Rick, too, 
for a minute. But in a second he turned sober 
again. 

“ I’m sorry, though. Your little white-headed 
friend is in pretty serious trouble.” 

That meant Rick, and the way he said it just 
made me sick. 

“ Will Mr. Fleming see him? ” 

“ Like enough.” 

“ When?” 

“ I think he told them to bring the boy here 
at twelve o’clock.” 

I didn’t know just what to do for a minute, 
and then I made up my mind. There was no 
use in telling Mr. Farley and trying to make him 
believe it, when, if he did believe. I’d have to 
tell Mr. Fleming or the detectives all over again 
afterwards, so I thought quickly about it, and I 
got an idea. 

“ Could I see Mr. Fleming ? ” I asked. 

“What for?” 

“ I want to tell him about Rick.” 


48 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

It scared me to say it, for everybody around 
the store seems to be afraid of Mr. Fleming, but 
Mr. Farley laughed. 

“ I guess not,” he said. “ He won’t have time 
to talk to all the boys in the place.” 

He was kind enough about it, but he turned 
away to talk to somebody who came up just then, 
and I was sort of uncertain what to do. So I 
went back to help load our wagon and think 
about it. 

I hadn’t seen Midgy, as we called him, — the 
boy that hit me with the whitewash brush, — since 
the time he had done it, and so many other things 
had happened that I had almost forgotten about 
it. But I met him almost as soon as I’d left 
Mr. Farley, and he made a face and laughed at 
me. I was pretty mad at him, but I didn’t see 
why he wanted to keep on making me madder. I 
hadn’t really done anything to him, but father 
says that when you’ve done something mean to 
a fellow and don’t square it up, it makes you 
hate him after a while, worse than if he had 


A Meeting in the Dark 49 

done something to you. I guess that was what 
was the matter with Midgy towards me. 

But he was afraid to stand and wait for me, 
and he kept out of my way. I didn’t want to 
fuss with him then, at all. I was too sorry 
about Rick, so I didn’t pay any attention to him. 
I told Dib what Mr. Farley said, but I didn’t 
tell him what I thought I’d do. I wasn’t sure, 
and I worried a good deal about when I ought 
to try to see Mr. Fleming, and at last I had to go 
out on the wagon before I’d decided, and then I 
knew I couldn’t get back till noon. 

But when noon came, I was back and I meant 
to go ahead right away before Rick got any 
deeper in trouble, and so I watched my chance 
to get into an elevator and go up to the third 
floor, where the general offices are and where 
Mr. Fleming has his office. I tell you, it seemed 
a hard thing to do — ever so much harder than 
it would have been to tell Mr. Farley. Nobody 
stopped me, though it seems funny now that they 
didn’t, for it’s pretty hard to get to Mr. Fleming’s 


5© Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

office without somebody asking what you want. 
I think it was because so many people were get- 
ting ready to go to lunch just then and they didn’t 
notice me. 

I think I was almost as much frightened when 
I got to his big glass door and saw — 


Private — Mr. Fleming 


on it, as I was when I stood in the dark passage- 
way and heard the little girl coming, but I 
knocked before I had time to back out. Nobody 
answered my first knock and I had to knock 
again, but I heard voices inside and I thought 
maybe I would be too late if I didn’t hurry. And 
then, when nobody answered my second knock, 
all at once I heard Rick talking and crying in- 
side, and I just got desperate and opened the 
door and walked in. 

Well, the door is away over in the corner of 
the room and the men were so busy inside that 


A Meeting in the Dark 51 

they didn’t notice me at all, and I had time to 
stop and listen, and what I heard surprised me 
and made me madder than I’ve ever been before, 
I guess. They had Rick in the middle of three 
or four of them and they were asking questions. 
There were the three detectives I had seen before, 
a policeman, a man who was a lawyer, as I 
found out afterwards, and Mr. Fleming, who sat 
watching them all, very quiet. Rick was crying, 
as I said, and just as I came in, it was his voice 
I heard, and his funny way of saying things 
sounded so, then, that I felt awfully bad for the 
poor little fellow. 

“ It is not that I steal,” was what he said, sob- 
bing out loud and rubbing his eyes with his 
hands. 

“You don’t steal, don’t you?” asked the de- 
tective in a loud voice. “ What were you doing 
in that box ? ” 

“ I went for one look.” 

“A look, eh? And you didn’t know those 
things were stolen, I suppose?” 


52 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“ Yes, sir, I did know that the things, they 
were stolen.” 

“ You did ! You confess that, do you? ” 

“ What’s — what’s that — confess ? ” asked Rick, 
sobbing, but saying it in his funny way. 

“ Don’t be impertinent,” said the detective 
angrily. 

“ I don’t think the boy meant to be, Howard,” 
said the lawyer. “ He seems to find it hard to 
understand.” 

“ He understands all right,” said Howard. 
“ He’s making up stupid.” Then he just went 
for Rick hard. 

“ Who stole those things ? ” 

I don’t know who did steal them,” said Rick, 
more quiet. 

“ Well, you knew they were stolen, you knew 
where they were, you knew they belonged to 
the store, yet you say you don’t know who stole 
them. Now come, tell the truth.” 

“ It is that I do tell the truth.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” 


A Meeting in the Dark 53 

‘‘ No, sir. I went just to take the look at the 
stolen things. We were to then try to the thief 
capture.^’ 

‘^We! 

“ I and a boy.^^ 

^^What boy?’’ 

Rick didn’t answer. 

What boy, I asked you? ” The detective just 
roared it. 

‘‘A boy,” Rick said, and commenced to cry 
again. 

That made me so mad I wanted to throw some- 
thing at that detective, but I knew it wouldn’t 
do Rick any good if I did, so I waited, for I 
didn’t know how I was going to get to talk to 
Mr. Fleming and I thought it wasn’t any use 
to talk to the detective. 

Stop sniveling and answer me straight, or 
I’ll put you in jail for a week,” the detective 
said. 

I thought that would make Rick tell, or make 
him cry awfully, but, all of a sudden, he stopped 


54 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

and he put his head up, and burst right out with 
loud words, as if he hadn’t been frightened at all. 

“ You will in the jail lock me? Very well, you 
do so. We do not steal, we only find the stolen 
things, and I never tell you who that boy is, if 
you kill me.” 

It surprised everybody else as much as it did 
me. The detective’s eyes opened wide, the lawyer 
leaned forward quickly, and Mr. Fleming sat per- 
fectly still and looked at Rick first a long sharp 
look, and then smiled a little and nodded. But 
the detective didn’t stop questioning. 

“ Now, look here,” he said, “ if you’ve got 
any secrets you’d better tell ’em. It’s too late 
for you to try any bluffs. Why didn’t you tell 
Mr. Farley as soon as you found those goods ? ” 

But I couldn’t stand it any longer for Rick 
to have it all against him, so I started right into 
the middle among them all and went straight 
toward Mr. Fleming, and I said: 

“ Rick Neufer is telling just the truth, and that 
man isn’t fair. He’s scaring him.” 




A Meeting in the Dark 55 

But almost before I had said the words, some- 
body caught hold of my collar behind and jerked 
me back, and the man they called Howard took 
hold of me and shook me. 

“ See here,” he said, '' what are you doing 
here? Where did you come from? Who are 
you ? ” 

I guess I was just boiling over mad then, and 
I just yelled it out at him when I answered. 

I'm the other boy ! ” I said. 


CHAPTER III 


RUNAWAY HORSES 

I GUESS I must have made a great deal of noise 
when I hollered right out so in Mr. Fleming’s 
office, for three or four of the men said “ Sh ! ” 
meaning to keep quiet. But the lawyer laughed 
out loud. I didn’t see what he was laughing at, 
and I looked at Mr. Fleming, and then I didn’t 
look at anybody else for a minute, for Mr. Flem- 
ing’s eyes, which are gray and keen, but which, 
I know now, are always kind, were fixed straight 
on mine and just held them so it seemed I couldn’t 
turn away if I wanted to. And when Mr. 
Howard commenced to ask questions of me, I 
didn’t pay any attention to him, but just looked 
at Mr. Fleming all the time and talked to him. 

“What do you want here?” asked the 
detective. 

“ I came to see Mr. Fleming,” I said. I just 
56 


Runaway Horses 57 

glanced at Rick and saw that he was standing 
with wide-open eyes and mouth and looking at 
me. Then I nodded at him and looked back at 
Mr. Fleming. I want to tell you/’ I went on, 
“ that Rick isn’t a thief and he didn’t find the 
stolen goods first.” 

How do you know ? ” asked Mr. Howard. 
You may tell me.” 

I know because I told him they were there.” 

You told him?” 

‘‘ Yes.” 

‘‘ When did you first see them? ” 

“ Yesterday morning.” 

Who showed them to you ? ” 

“ Nobody — I found them.” 

‘‘ Oh, you found them, did you ? Then you 
went and told your young friend here, and he’s 
the only one you told. What kind of a boy 
are you ? ” 

Mr. Fleming,” I said, not paying any atten- 
tion to the detective, “ I was hiding behind the 
boxes yesterday and somebody came looking for 


58 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

me, and I climbed up and got into the one where 
the things were. I never knew before that they 
were there and Rick never knew till I told him. 
When I told him, he went to look, just before the 
detectives went in to search there last night. I 
tried to keep him from getting caught, but I 
couldn’t.” 

“ Oho ! ” exclaimed the detective, “ you’re the 
youngster that called ‘ Stop, thief ’ last night, are 
you?” 

“Yes,” I said. 

Mr. Fleming hadn’t heard the story about that, 
so they told him, only they made it worse than 
it really was. But the lawyer laughed again, and 
then Mr. Fleming did, too, a little and said that 
the joke seemed to be on them, and he didn’t seem 
to blame me. 

“ Where did you go after you ran out? ” asked 
the lawyer, taking the questioning away from Mr. 
Howard. 

“ Into a house across the alley, and then 
through and over into the other street.” 


Runaway Horses 59 

And they caught your little friend here while 
you were gone?’^ 

‘‘ Yes, sir. Rick didn’t understand, I guess.” 

‘‘ Well,” said Mr. Howard, ‘‘ it looks to me 
rather like conspiracy here, Mr. Fleming. I be- 
lieve this boy is guilty.” He pointed at Rick. 

Mr. Fleming smiled. No,” he said, I think 
you are mistaken, Howard.” 

The detective sort of threw up his hands, as if 
he didn’t like it, and I thought he felt bad be- 
cause it wasn’t either of us that had robbed the 
store. And right then, the lawyer saw him, too, 
and he said, sort of severe : 

“ What’s the matter, Howard ? Can’t you 
fasten this on anybody?'' It sounded just as 
if he meant to ask if Mr. Howard was trying 
just to prove somebody guilty without caring 
whether he really was guilty or not. 

But Mr. Howard didn’t understand, and he 
answered angry. I’ve had it just about proved 
here,” he said. I could get a confession out 
of these youngsters, if I had half a chance.” 


6o Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

Then Mr. Fleming spoke quickly: “Yes,” he 
said, “ I guess you could. I don’t like your 
methods.” Then he looked at the man who held 
me. “ Let these boys go,” he said. “ We’ll have 
to look further than this.” 

I wanted to thank him, right then, but I was 
afraid to say any more, so I took hold of Rick’s 
arm and we went right out. And just as I 
turned to shut the door, I saw Mr. Fleming still 
looking at us. 

“ He’s square, isn’t he, Rick ? ” I said, and 
Rick said yes, he thought so. Then we talked a 
minute, and I thought Rick ought to go first and 
find his mother and let her know before he went 
back to work; so we went down, and, as it was 
the noon hour, I went out of the store with him 
and saw him start. He didn’t live very far away. 
Then I turned around to go back and get my 
lunch when I happened to think about the blind 
man, and so I hurried around and found him 
right where he’d been before. 

“ Did you know they thought they’d caught 


Runaway Horses 6i 

the thief this morning ? ” I asked him, when he 
knew who I was. He seemed to find it hard to 
remember me. 

He sort of started in a funny way when I 
said that and asked me a question quick. 

“ Who is it?” 

“ Who is what ? ” I said. 

“ Who did they arrest ? ” 

“Oh! Rick Neufer.” 

“ Who is he ? ” He seemed not to care so 
much, now. 

“ He’s one of the boys — a friend of mine,” I 
answered. 

“ Oh I Well, he has been arrested ? ” 

“ He was, yes. He isn’t now.” 

“Isn’t what?” 

“ Arrested. Mr. Fleming let him go.” 

“Oh, he did, eh? Well, he wasn’t the thief, 
I know that.” 

“ So do I,” I said. “ But how do you know ? 
Have you found him ? ” 

“ No, but I’m going to, and you can help. You 


62 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

come and see me here to-night, and don’t tell 
anybody at all.” 

All right,” I said. 

I had to hurry with my lunch that day because 
it was late and the wagon was just about ready 
to go out again. But when I had finished and 
went out, a surprise was waiting for me, and 
a mighty unpleasant one, too. The driver of my 
wagon, who was a mighty nice fellow, and who 
was good to me, though I hadn’t known him 
long, had been taken sick and another fellow 
named Prall, who Dib Web and some others 
told me was one of the meanest of all the drivers, 
had taken his place for the day. And worst of 
all, they had put another boy on the wagon with 
me, and that boy was Midgy. And I found out 
quick enough that the two were friends and were 
mighty thick, too. 

Well, I felt pretty sorry, but I couldn’t help 
it. Of course, if I’d known how bad it would 
be, I wouldn’t have gone at all, or I would have 
told Mr. Farley then, but I didn’t know, and I 


Runaway Horses 63 

thought maybe Prall wouldn’t be so bad as the 
fellows told me he was, so I went right along 
without saying a word. 

We hadn’t much more than driven away from 
the store, before they commenced to plague me, 
though. Prall sat in the middle of the seat — or 
rather between Midgy and me, for you couldn’t 
say it was in the middle. The first thing they 
began to do to me was to crowd me, and I knew 
before we’d gone far that I would have a hard 
time of it. They only gave me about six or 
seven inches of the seat to sit on, and as soon 
as we were out of sight of Fleming’s they pushed 
slowly and gradually my way, a little at a time. 
They did it, grinning and laughing and nudging 
each other, as if they thought I couldn’t under- 
stand them. The first time I got out of the 
wagon to deliver a package, they crowded over 
so far that there was scarcely room at all, and 
they wouldn’t move back when I came to get in 
again, but made me stand up. 

I tried to laugh about it at first, and just 


64 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

pushed them as if I thought it was fun, too. But 
you can’t do much laughing when you know two 
fellows are trying their best to be mean to you, 
so it wasn’t long till I was pretty serious. The 
second time I was out of the wagon, they drove 
away down the street nearly two blocks before 
they let me catch up with them again. Then, 
pretty soon, instead of taking turns with me and 
delivering half the packages, Midgy began to 
say it was my turn, sometimes, when it was his. 
And just a little after that, he said it was my 
turn every time, and Prall stuck up for him. 
They told me, if I didn’t deliver the packages, 
they’d report me to Mr. Farley. 

Well, I’d stood all I was going to by that 
time, so I thought what I’d do when I was away 
from the wagon on one trip, and I just simply 
made up my mind I was going to get even. So 
when I went back, I started to climb up into 
the wagon. 

Get down and work,” said Prall, laughing 
right in my face now. 


Runaway Horses 65 

IVe done my share/’ I said. ‘‘ I’ll ride a 
while now.” 

‘‘ Oh, no, you won’t,” he said, and he and 
Midgy both commenced to push and laugh 
harder. But the horses were a little bit skittish 
and pretty soon they started up quick, fright- 
ened by the scuffle, and Prall had to use both 
hands to hold them. Still they kept me down. 

‘‘ Next package across the street,” said Midgy, 
and tossed one at me. 

The street was muddy and I couldn’t let the 
package drop, so I caught it, and then I thought 
I’d better deliver one more while I thought again. 
I could see that they were just waiting for me, 
and so I surprised them. I had the receipt-book 
which customers sign when we deliver a package 
that happens to have money with it, like change 
going back on a mail-order or an exchange. I 
suddenly thought I could use that book. 

Your turn,” yelled Midgy, laughing so he 
could hardly talk, and getting a big bundle ready 
to push towards me. 


66 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“ Your turn,” said Prall, too. 

“ No,” I said. “ I don’t have any more turns 
this trip. If Midgy doesn’t deliver the rest, you 
will, or they won’t get delivered.” 

“Oh, is that so?” Prall said. “Well, you 
don’t ride, see?” 

“ Yes, I do,” I said, and I held up the book. 
“ If you don’t move over and give me a place. 
I’ll go back to the store with this receipt-book, and 
if you want to come in and see Mr. Farley about 
it, you can.” 

They are awfully particular about the receipt- 
book at the store and about every record in it. 
There were quite a number of packages still to 
deliver that would have to be receipted for in it, 
and I was sure they wouldn’t dare let me do 
what I said. I didn’t know but Prall might try 
to hit me or something, but I climbed right up 
over the wheel so quickly that I startled the 
horses. They jumped and Prall had to hold the 
lines tight. But I was not a bit afraid of him, 
though he’s a good deal bigger than I am, and. 


Runaway Horses 67 

first I knew, he and Midgy both slid along and 
let me on the seat. 

They were mighty quiet about it, and so was 
I. Everybody was mad, of course, but I knew 
they didn’t want to do anything more to me just 
then. Midgy knew, too, that the packages had 
to be delivered or I wouldn’t be the only one 
to get into trouble, so, as I wouldn’t budge again, 
he had to carry the rest. 

But it didn’t really do me so very much good, 
for Midgy kept getting madder and madder, the 
more he worked, and I knew I’d made a worse 
enemy of him than ever, and probably just as 
bad a one of Prall. I couldn’t help it, and father 
says now, since he’s read this that I’m writing, 
that any man who really is a man must have some 
enemies, for some people will try to run over 
you and you can’t afford to let them, and then 
they are mad because you won’t. 

As soon as they found they couldn’t make me 
do all the work, though, they hurried the horses 
and made the deliveries themselves, but they 


68 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

wouldn’t talk to me at all. They just spoke to 
each other, sometimes whispering, and, toward 
the last of the trip, I couldn’t hear much that 
they were saying. I guess they didn’t intend that 
I should, either, for they were planning some- 
thing. But Prall made the horses go so fast that 
they got all excited and hot, and I thought maybe 
we’d have trouble at the barns when we drove 
in, for the hostlers report wagon-crews when the 
horses are overdriven. 

But it was when we started on the drive back 
down town that the worst of the whole trouble 
commenced. Those two seemed to be getting 
reckless then. They whipped the horses, each of 
them hitting them, one with the whip and the 
other with the lines, until they got them to run- 
ning hard. I was afraid, all right, but I thought 
they were just doing it to scare me, so I wouldn’t 
say a word. I had to hang on, for the wagon 
turned corners short, and tipped and bumped 
and jolted enough to throw a fellow out, if he 
wasn’t mighty careful. Some of the pavements 


Runaway Horses 69 

were wet, and the mud flew up hard and fast. 
I got wet and muddy pretty quick, but I hung 
on and kept still. Once, we cut the curb so close 
that the front wheel on Midgy’s side struck the 
stone hard and I thought it sounded as if a spoke 
cracked or something, but Prall kept right on. 
They were both laughing again now and it 
seemed to me that they had sort of lost their 
senses. They acted wild. 

I thought sure they would stop when they 
turned into one of the big avenues not far from 
the store, and perhaps they would have, but 
just then, when the horses were all stirred up, we 
passed a big, high wagon and I saw a band in 
it, and at that very minute they commenced sud- 
denly to play, and our team shied like a pair 
of colts. They dodged way over toward Midgy's 
side of the street, and Prall tried very hard to 
hold them, but he couldn’t, and almost before 
you could think, the wagon struck the curb again, 
the same wheel that hit before now getting the 
worst of the shock. There was an awful split- 


70 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

ting, splintering sound, and then that side of the 
wagon sagged first and then just sank down, as 
the front wheel dished and the axle went to the 
pavement. 

Midgy yelled like everything and grabbed hold 
of Prall, and Prall couldn’t do a thing with the 
lines, and it was not more than a wink of your 
eye before the end of the axle hit a manhole cover 
in the pavement and gave the wagon an awful 
jerk, and out those two fell, head first, to the 
pavement, Prall carrying the lines with him, and 
letting go when he struck. 

I remember just how they looked in that last 
second I saw them before the wagon swept away 
and left them. They were hugging each other 
and sliding on the wet asphalt, as if it was ice. 
Then the horses, which had been half-crazy be- 
fore, but which were wild now, just seemed to 
double their speed. I know the one on my side 
seemed to stretch right out in the harness and 
run as I never saw a horse run before, and before 
I had caught one good breath, I knew I was alone 


Runaway Horses 71 

in a broken wagon that was being run away with 
and that in less than a minute we'd cross the most 
crowded street in the city. 

The wheel on my side of the wagon was all 
right and held up, but the canopy top had cracked 
or buckled or something and pressed right down 
against my head, so that I couldn't sit up straight. 
I hadn't any lines to hold the horses and no way 
to get hold of them. It seemed only a matter of 
a minute or two before we would hit another 
wagon or a car or an automobile and smash all 
up, and then I'd be killed, sure. But I didn't seem 
as much frightened then as I am now when I 
remember it. I just thought You’ve got to do 
something, Witter," over and over to myself, two 
or three times, quick. 

And then, I saw the lines dragging along the 
pavement and followed them with my eyes, up till 
I saw one was caught across a buckle just above 
the crupper on the back of the horse on that side, 
and it looked so easy to reach that I hardly 
thought about the danger, and before I knew it 


72 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

I was leaning out over the tilted dashboard to get 
it. And I got it, too, and then it was simple to 
get the lines back into the wagon and pull up on 
them. 

But it was too late. I hadn’t any more than 
begun to pull before we reached the big avenue, 
and just at that minute a car came right across 
our way. There wasn’t any chance to pass or 
turn out, but, just before we struck the horses 
swerved, and then the wagon crashed into the 
side of the car, and all the air around me seemed 
full of flying glass and I felt myself thrown for- 
ward, right out upon the wet, sweating back of 
one of the horses, and when he jumped again, I 
slid off one side and dropped down on the pave- 
ment almost as easy as if the horse had been 
standing still. 

It was an awful mix-up and the horses fell down 
and kicked and struggled terribly, but after a 
while the policeman who came got them up and 
quieted them. It was pretty hard for me not 
to cry. I dop’t know why, for I wasn’t hurt a 


Runaway Horses 73 

bit, but I simply couldn't keep tears out of my 
eyes while I watched the work. Even the glass 
that was in my clothes and in my hair hadn't 
hurt me, and folks came all around and said I was 
lucky and that it was remarkable. I was afraid 
they would think I was a coward if I cried, and 
I was thinking mostly about that when one of 
the policemen came out of the crowd and over 
to me where I was standing now on the curb and 
stopped beside me. 

‘‘ Where'd they begin to run from? " he asked 
me, sort of gruff. 

“ Away up the street," I answered, and I could 
hardly get the words out. 

‘‘ What started 'em? " he asked. 

I — I don't know." 

Why don't you know? " he asked, in just the 
same tone. You must have been running your 
horses." 

That astonished me so I hardly knew what to 
say. I never dreamed anyone would think I was 
to blame. 


74 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“ Well ? ” he said sharply, when I didn’t an- 
swer, and people commenced to crowd around us. 

“I didn’t!” I said. 

“ I guess you did, thoug'h,” I heard somebody 
say on the outside of the crowd. “ I saw you 
coming and you was beating their heads off.” 

The policeman didn’t look around, but kept 
his eyes right on me. “ You started to run ’em 
and they were too many for you, eh ? What busi- 
ness has a kid like you driving, anyway ? ” 

Just then, somebody came from the other 
crowd and walked very fast toward us, and I 
could see it was a little man with a very red face 
and that he looked very angry indeed. He al- 
most ran up to the officer beside me, and talked 
so fast I could scarcely understand him at first. 

“ Where’s the man who drove that team ? 
Where is he ? Where is he ? ” he asked, all in 
one breath. “ I want to find him. I’ll horsewhip 
him. I’ll have him arrested. It’s a shame, a 
wicked shame, to have horses treated so.” 

It seemed almost funny to hear him, even 


Runaway Horses 75 

though he did mean me, and I was a little afraid 
he would do something to me as soon as he found 
out I had been in the wagon, but he went right on. 

‘‘ What became of the driver, officer? He was 
running those horses, I know he was. There are 
marks of the whip all over them. They’ve been 
beaten — ^they’ve been mistreated. They were 
driven to run away. I think one of them may 
die, he’s so overdriven.” 

The more he said, the more serious it seemed, 
and then, when the officer pointed to me, I thought 
I would be whipped right there. 

“ There’s the kid that’s responsible,” the police- 
man said. He was running ’em, so they say.” 

The little man ran right at me and caught 
hold of my shoulders and shook me. ‘‘You?” 
he said. “ You did it, did you? You ran those 
horses like that? You ought to be trounced, 
young man. I’ve a notion to cane you.” 

Well, I was all puzzled and mixed up, for I 
couldn’t see why they thought I had done it, and 
I didn’t know why this little man was so angry 


y6 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

about the horses, for they seemed to be standing 
up over by the car all right, and though they 
were panting some, I thought they didn’t look 
so bad as he said. Their coats did show the 
whip-marks though, where Midgy had hit them. 

I tried to explain that I hadn’t been driving 
and that the driver had fallen out, but the crowd 
made too much noise and the policeman and the 
little man talked together and paid no attention 
to me. I would have run away, only I thought 
that would be like a coward, and besides, maybe 
the crowd would help hold me if I tried it. I 
was just thinking that if Midgy and Prall were 
there. I’d make them tell the truth, when I saw 
Prall coming up to us. 

He was all plastered with the black mud ol¥ 
the pavement and the side of his face was 
skinned, and he had lost his cap, but he seemed 
very much more frightened really than hurt. 
When he saw us, he sort of stopped uncertain, but 
then somebody in the crowd called out, loud so 
everyone heard: 


Runaway Horses 77 

“ There ! There’s somebody that’s been run 
over, too. Here’s the fellow that was licking the 
team, young man.” 

Prall turned quick and I could see his face 
change in a second. He saw I was being blamed 
and it was a chance for him, so he just took it 
right up quick. 

“ Yes, that’s him,” he hollered. “ He beat the 
team and I couldn’t hold ’em. We broke a wheel 
and threw me out.” 

I was wild when I heard that. I just grabbed 
the policeman’s arm, and made him listen. 

“ I didn’t, / didn’t— I didn’t! ” I shouted. “ He 
and the other boy whipped the team. I didn’t 
touch them.” 

“ Oh, hear him lie ! ” Prall answered. “ It 
was him made all the trouble. He tried to grab 
the lines away from me and turned us into the 
curb and smashed the wheel.” 

He came right over towards me, as he talked, 
and he seemed to be so mad that he wasn’t sat- 
isfied with getting me into trouble about the 


yS Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

team. And, all at once, he started to run at 
me, as if he meant to hit me. 

“ And I’ll punch your head, too, for doing it,” 
he said. 

But he ran right against the policeman’s arm, 
for the officer stretched it out in front of him, 
and Prall stopped with a grunt, just as if he had 
run against a fence. 

“ Here now, none of that,” the policeman said. 
“ Maybe you’re just as much to blame as he is. 
It’s no cinch that he beat them horses yet.” 

Well, that made me look at the officer very 
much differently. I thought he was unfair and 
that I hadn’t any chance with him before, but he 
seemed to think that, because some people said 
I had done the whipping of the horses, that didn’t 
need to make it so. So I just stopped talking 
and waited, for I began to feel a good deal safer. 
Prall insisted and insisted, and tried to make the 
officer believe him, but it didn’t do him any good. 

“ No,” the policeman said, “ you just wait. 
We’ll see.” 


Runaway Horses 79 

But just then Midgy came up all dirt-covered, 
just as Prall was, and as quick as Prall saw him 
he asked him if I hadn’t been the one to whip 
the horses, and Midgy said yes, right without 
hesitating. Of course, that showed me the kind 
of fellows they were, once for all. A boy may 
sometimes be ugly and do things that hurt you, 
and still be a decent fellow when you get to 
know him, but when he lies about you like Prall 
and Midgy did, he is a sneak and you can’t expect 
anything but sneaky things of him. 

The policeman looked at me kind of funny 
then, and the little man who had been so mad 
began to talk again. 

‘‘ I insist that you arrest him,” he said. I 
insist; I demand it. I demand it.” 

Don’t get excited,” said the copper. ‘‘ There’s 
time enough.” 

But he’s the one at fault. Here are three 
witnesses. What more do you want? What 
more do you want? ” 

He had a queer way of repeating a question, 


8o Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

usually the last one he asked, and emphasizing 
some one word in it. It sounded very funny, and 
he talked so fast it made me think of a bumble- 
bee buzzing and buzzing against a glass, for he 
didn’t manage to get anybody to do anything with 
all the noise he made. 

“ In good time — all in good time,” the officer 
said. 

Then Midgy and Prall started to move away, 
sort of disgusted and talking between them, but 
the policeman spoke quick. 

“ Here, you two, I want you. You stay here.” 
^ “ What, me? ” asked Prall quickly, turning. 

/ “ Yes, you” said the policeman. “ We’ll find 
out all about this.” 

“ I got to go and report,” Prall said, and his 
face showed so plainly he was anxious that I 
knew the copper saw it, too, for he began to 
look pretty closely at both of them. 

“ Never mind, now,” he said. “ We’ll all re- 
port pretty quick, over to the station or to your 
boss.” 


Runaway Horses 8i 

Midgy looked scared then. “ Say,” he said, 
“ we ain’t done anything. Why do you pinch 
us?” 

Pinch is the word Midgy used to say for 
arrest. I never heard anybody say it till I 
went to work at the store, but the policeman 
understood. 

“ You ain’t pinched, but if you don’t stay here 
and give account of yourself, you will be.” 

We all seemed to be in it together, and I was 
pretty sorry, for I thought probably we might 
all be punished together. And just as I was 
thinking about it, the crowd over by the car 
opened and two men led the horses off and two 
other policemen came over to where we were. 
I wondered why the crowd had stayed so long by 
the car, but I couldn’t see much over there. Then 
our policeman spoke to the two other officers 
about us. 

“ Here’s the three that were in the wagon,” he 
said. “ We’ll take ’em over to the station till 
we hear the rights of this.” 


82 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

And then they made us walk ahead of them, 
all three of us together, and started us away down 
the cross street, while a whole lot of people fol- 
lowed along, and some boys who had come up 
commenced to hoot and jolly us about being 
arrested. I was so ashamed that I couldn’t look 
up, and I thought that it would be terrible if I 
should happen to meet anybody who knew my 
father and mother. But Prall and Midgy com- 
menced to talk to me, and so I forgot pretty soon 
about that. 

“ You got us into this,” Prall said. 

“ That’s what you did,” added Midgy. 

“ And we’ll fix you, too, for it,” said Pratt. 

“ How did I get you into it ? ” I asked. 

“ Telling that cop.” 

“ I didn’t tell him anything,” I said. “ But if 
I had, you had it coming to you, because you 
whipped the horses. What did you lie to them 
about me for? ” 

“ Never mind,” Midgy said. “ We’ll get you, 
smart alec.” 


Runaway Horses 83 

I’m not afraid of you, Midgy,” I said. 

You’ve just got it in for me because I wouldn’t 
let you touch that little German fellow at the 
store. You’d better look out what you do.” 

‘'Look out, eh? I’ll never look out for you, 
I can tell you that.” 

“ You did this morning.” 

“ I didn’t.” 

“ Oh, yes, you did. And if you tell things 
like this about me at the station. I’ll remember 
it.” 

“ We’ll tell just what we told the copper, just 
now, won’t we, Midgy ? ” Prall said. 

“If you do, ril do something,” I said. I didn’t 
know what I could do, but I wasn’t going to let 
them think I was just scared. 

“ Yes — you’ll run and tell,” said Midgy. 
“ Anyway, you got the horses scared first, when 
you jumped in the wagon this morning, or they 
wouldn’t have been scared so easy later.” 

“ Maybe that had a little to do with it,” I said. 
“ But I don’t care if I did scare the horses then. 


84 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

/ 

It was because you whipped them that they ran 
away.” 

“ And we won’t forget how you made Midgy 
do more than his share of the work,” said Prall, 
not paying any attention then to what I said. 

That made me laugh, though I was ready to 
do almost anything else. It seemed so foolish 
a thing for Prall to say. 

“ Well,” I said, “ you tried to make everything 
as bad for me as you could this morning and 
I had a right to do what I did.” 

Both Prall and Midgy kept looking around at 
the policemen every little while, but I thought it 
was better to walk right straight ahead as if 
I wasn’t afraid, and I wouldn’t look around at 
them at all. About that time we turned a corner 
and both the other fellows walked closer to me. 

“ You say you don’t care if you did scare the 
horses this morning ? ” asked Prall. 

“ That’s what I said,” I answered, too angry 
to care to repeat the rest that I had said. 

“ You didn’t care what you did even if it did 


Runaway Horses 85 

scare the horses ?’’ Prall seemed sort of insist- 
ing, to make me say more. 

I sneered right in his face. Scare the 
horses!’’ I exclaimed; and then I added, ‘^Yes, 
and I’d do it again any time and you couldn’t 
stop me, horses or no horses.” 

And then just at that instant, I felt one of 
the policemen put his hand on my shoulder, and 
he turned me around so that I had to look up 
at him. He wasn’t the same one who had stood 
with me on the curb, but he seemed to be a 
sergeant or captain or something, though I hadn’t 
noticed before. 

‘"Oh!” he said. ‘‘You’d do it again, horses 
or no horses ? ” 

I knew of course, right then, that he’d come 
up close and been listening and that he’d heard 
just the last of what I’d said, and when I looked 
at Prall and Midgy, I could see that they could 
hardly keep their faces straight, so I believed 
they had known he was listening. 

“ I guess we’ve learned something here,” the 


86 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

officer said, grinning. “ In you go.” And he 
turned me again and I found we were in front 
of the police station. 

I was just sick, and so angry at Prall and 
Midgy that I could hardly stand still, but I 
remembered that the other policeman was pretty 
fair in not blaming me too quickly. Of course, 
I couldn’t have helped myself anyway, so I just 
walked up the steps of the station, trying to 
remember the things I’d said last. And every 
one of the last few sentences seemed to me to 
sound just as if I had done everything Prall had 
said I did. 

But just as I got to the top of the steps, one 
of the policemen stopped and spoke and pointed 
quickly. 

‘‘ There’s the ambulance, now,” he said, and 
I looked and saw the police ambulance coming 
toward us. 

‘‘ They got here quick,” another officer said. 

I didn’t think they’d catch us.” 

They waited, looking at the wagon, and I 


Runaway Horses 87 

waited, too. It all meant that somebody had been 
hurt by our runaway, and pretty badly hurt, too. 
At last, I had to ask. 

“ Was someone hurt ? ” I asked. 

“ Well, I guess so,” the policeman answered. 
“ A girl was about killed.” 

Then we waited, while the wagon was backed 
up to the curb, and then they took out a stretcher, 
and I could hardly look, I felt so terrible about 
it. But I did look — ^just one glance, and, in that 
glance I saw something I could hardly believe. 

The girl on the stretcher was a girl I’d seen 
before. I tried to remember, but couldn’t for 
a second, just where I’d known her. Then I 
thought suddenly of the dark hallway into which 
I had run from the detectives. She was the little 
girl with the crutches. 


CHAPTER IV 


A SECRET TO KEEP 

I don’t exactly know just what fainting is like, 
for I never fainted away in my life. Girls some- 
times do and I guess boys do, too, but I never 
have. But when I saw that poor little girl lying 
on the stretcher that they took out of the ambu- 
lance, and when I saw her eyes closed and the 
eyelids looking so white, I felt just as if every- 
thing else was sort of getting white and milky- 
dim. I couldn’t look again right away, because 
I felt that if I did I wouldn’t be able to breathe. 

They passed us on the wide steps and carried 
the stretcher on into the office, and we followed. 
But when we got inside, they turned off to the 
left into another room and we were pushed over 
to the high desk at the right, where a sergeant 
looked over his glasses at us and asked our 
names. 


88 


A Secret to Keep 89 

“ Witter Whitehead/’ I said, for I was the first 
one and ahead of the others. 

‘‘ Here, here ! ” the officer back of me said. 
‘‘ None of that — give your right name.” 

‘‘ That is my name,” I answered, surprised. 
‘‘Nonsense! Nobody ever had a name like 
that.” 

“/ did, though,” I said, and they laughed at 
me. “ I mean, I have,” I added. 

“ You give yourself away,” said the sergeant. 
“ Now tell me your name without any foolishness, 
and don’t waste time about it.” 

“ My name is Witter Whitehead,” I said. It 
made me sort of angry to have them think it was 
such a queer name. 

But the sergeant turned to Prall and Midgy. 
“ Is that his name ? ” he asked. 

Prall grinned and his eyes turned to me with 
mischief looking right out of them. 

“ No,” he said. “ He’s trying to fool you. 
His name is Barney McGinnes.” 

Midgy laughed out loud, and I guess I grinned, 


90 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

too, it sounded so funny. But the sergeant was 
ugly to me, right away. 

“ Nothing to laugh at, young man, I can tell 
you.” And then he began to write. 

My face went all hot, and I felt like just snatch- 
ing the pen out of his hand and making him 
write my name as it ought to be. But in a 
second I thought I’d just let them do as they 
wanted to, if they were so suspicious of me that 
they couldn’t believe what I’d said, so I kept 
still. The sergeant asked Prall his name, and 
he gave it, and then Midgy gave his. I was a 
little surprised that they told their true names, 
after telling mine wrong, but I thought perhaps 
Prall remembered that it would be easy to call 
Mr. Farley and find out the truth, and so he didn’t 
take a chance. Of course, our uniforms told 
where we were from. 

Well, then the sergeant started to ask me ques- 
tions, because I was the first to be written down, 
I suppose. 


“ What do you do ? ” he asked. 


A Secret to Keep 91 

I repeated. I didn’t understand at 

first. 

‘‘ Yes, do! ” he hollered at me. 

I’m a wagon-boy,” I answered. 

How old?” 

“ Do you mean how old am I ? ” His way of 
asking questions puzzled me. 

“ Of course ! ” he said. What are you — a 
fool?” 

I got mad at that. No,” I said, but I’m not 
getting a square deal, and if you want me to 
answer your questions, you’ve got to ask them 
so I can understand.” 

The sergeant laid down his pen slowly, and 
folded his hands and then leaned down toward 
me with his eyes and mouth wide open. 

‘‘Well, what do you think of that?” he said. 
“Say, who are you? You must be the chief 
of police or the mayor or something — or maybe 
you’re the President, in disguise. Wouldn’t you 
like to have me come out and get down on my 
knees and walk three times around you, and then 


92 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

write out the questions I want you to answer? 
Maybe you’d like to have ’em set to music, so we 
can sing ’em for you. Eh? Anything else you 
think of that you’d like? ” 

All the policemen and Prall and Midgy laughed, 
and I know I blushed, though I didn’t think what 
he said was very funny. But you never do think 
it’s very funny when anybody else is making fun 
of you. It’s queer, though, how it affects the 
people who look on. So many folks take sides 
against you just the minute you are laughed 
at, no matter whether the thing that makes them 
laugh proves anything or not. And that’s the 
way it seemed then. 

Prall broke right in. “ You ought to have 
more sense than to talk like that,” he said to 
me. Then he turned to the sergeant and added : 
“ That’s just like him. He doesn’t know how to 
talk decent to anybody, anyway.” 

“ Well, I’ll talk to you, then,” said the sergeant, 
pretty sharp. “ What’s your work ? ” 

“ I’m a driver,” answered Prall. He seemed 


A Secret to Keep 93 

just a little taken back by the sergeant’s tone, 
but he was nervy. 

“ Did you drive to-day ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Why did you let this boy drive, then ? ” He 
pointed to me. 

“ I didn’t. He grabbed the lines and twisted 
us against the curb.” 

“ I didn’t ! ” I cried out, interrupting. 

“ Aw ! yes, you did, too,” said Prall. “ What 
do you want to lie for ? Didn’t he do it, 
Midgy?” 

“ Yes, of course,” said Midgy. 

“ I did not, and you know it,” I shouted. 

“ Come now, cut it out,” the officer by me said, 
and put his hand over my mouth. “ You’ve made 
enough trouble for one day.” 

“ He ran us into the curb and broke our wheel 
and we fell out,” said Prall, while I had to keep 
still. 

“ What did he want the lines for ? ” 

“ I don’t know, he just got fresh.” 


94 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“ Has he ever driven a wagon? ” 

“ No, they don’t let ’em drive as young as he 
is. Besides he’s a new boy — only been at the 
store a week.” 

“ Has he been on your wagon during that 
time ? ” 

“ No. I wouldn’t have his kind. He just 
makes trouble all the time. This is the first day 
he’s been with me, and look at the mess we’re in.” 

“ Has he made trouble for other drivers ? ” 

“ I don’t know about that, but he tried to pick 
a fight with Midgy here just yesterday.” 

“ I did not ! He started it ! ” I hollered again. 

“ Keep still there you, will you ? ” growled the 
policeman beside me, and he suddenly slapped me 
and made my ear ring. 

It seemed as if I couldn’t stand it then. Every- 
body in the world seemed against me and every- 
body mean as could be. I ought not to have 
done it, of course, but I just jumped right at 
him and struck and struck him, anywhere I could. 
I seemed to be just sort of crazy and I fought like 


A Secret to Keep 95 

anything. I know I felt my fists hit his brass 
buttons and it hurt, but I didn’t care and I 
fought all the harder. He had no right to slap 
me and I could hardly think, I was so angry and 
so confused. 

At first he dodged, too, but just in a minute 
he grabbed hold of my collar and twisted his 
hand around in it and, next minute, I couldn’t 
breathe at all and I had to stop. Then he loos- 
ened his hold a little and looked at me without 
saying a word, and there were little spots of light 
in his blue eyes that seemed to just shine. He 
kept his hand on my collar, though. 

I was very much surprised that he didn’t say 
anything, or that the other policemen didn’t speak 
about it. One or two of them were laughing 
a little, but they all looked at me sort of funny, 
as if they just hadn’t expected such a fuss from 
me and were astonished or something. I couldn’t 
just tell. I saw Midgy and Prall look at the 
policeman by me, too, surprised and puzzled, 
and I didn’t know what to think. 


96 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

In a minute, though, the sergeant began ques- 
tioning Prall again. 

“ Who whipped the horses ? ” he asked him, 
quick. 

“ He did,” said Prall, pointing to me, and it 
seemed sort of hopeless to me then, so I just let 
it all go, and pretty soon I found I was crying 
just like a baby. That made me ashamed, but 
I didn’t seem to be able to stop. 

“ Why did he beat the animals ? ” asked the 
sergeant. 

“ Because,” said Prall, “ because — oh, he’s 
always beating the horses.” 

“ Oh, he is, eh ? ” said the sergeant, and he 
looked sort of queer at Prall. “ He’s a real 
mean-spirited boy, is he ? ” 

“ You bet he is.” 

“ And couldn’t you stop him ? ” 

“ No — he just grabbed the whip and lammed 
’em.” 

“ But he must have had a reason.” 

“ Oh, he was mad.” 


97 


A Secret to Keep 

Is he in the habit of getting mad easy? ’’ 

Yes, he’s always getting mad at nothing.” 

‘‘ What did he get mad at to-day? ” The ser- 
geant had taken out a pencil and was writing on 
a piece of paper beside him, and I thought his 
voice sounded different. But he went on, slow 
and cool and paying close attention to everything 
Prall said. 

He got mad to-day, because he thought we 
didn’t give him enough room on the seat.” 

Who’s we ? ” asked the sergeant. 

Midgy and me.” 

And did you give him enough room? ” 

Yes, lots. He crowded us.” 

He did ? It seems to me two of you — and one 
as big as you are — hardly need be crowded by a 
boy like him.” 

Prall opened his eyes quick. Oh,” he an- 
swered, ‘‘ that’s what he got mad about.” 

‘‘ What?” 

Because we wouldn’t let him crowd us.’^ 

I see. Then what ? ” 


98 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“ Then he wouldn’t do his share of the work 
of delivering packages.” 

“No? You made him, didn’t you? Certainly 
he ought to do his share without complaining. 
Your other friend here looks tired. Did he have 
to do most of it?” 

“ Yes, he had most all of it to do. Whitey, 
there, wouldn’t do a thing all the last part of 
the trip.” 

“ That was mean of him, too, wasn’t it ? But 
how could he make you and Midgy do all the 
work while he did nothing? ” 

“ He took the receipt-book out of the wagon 
and said he’d run away with it, if we didn’t ” 

“ Didn’t what? ” 

“ If we didn’t let him ride.” 

“ I see. Why do you call him Whitey? ” 

“ That’s his name — Whitehead.” 

“ Oh, it is ? I thought you said it was some- 
thing else — let’s see — Barney McGinnes.” 

Brail’s face went red in a second. I’d been so 
interested that I’d forgotten, too, what he had 


A Secret to Keep 99 

said my name was, but the sergeant remembered. 
I looked around quick and I noticed all the police- 
men were looking kind of close at Prall, and he 
saw it, too, and began to get uneasy. 

I did say so,'’ he answered, after a second. 

But I was only fooling.” 

Yes,” said the sergeant. Were you only 
fooling, too, when you said he was a new boy 
at the store ? ” 

“ Why — why, no,” said Prall, sort of flustered, 
not knowing what was coming. No, I wasn't 
fooling then.” 

“ And you never knew him before he came to 
the store? ” 

No, sir. I sure never did.” 

Do you know the driver he has been with 
since he came?” 

No — that is, I know who he is.” 

‘‘Never talked with him? He's not a friend 
of yours?” 

“ You bet he ain't.” Prall grinned, getting 
easier now. “No, I never talk to him.” 


loo Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“ Did you ever see this other driver and young 
Whitehead, as you now call him, together ? ” 

“ Not as I know of.” 

“ How did you know they drove together,” 

“ oil, Midgy here, he told me that.” 

“ Did you ever see Whitehead on the wagon 
with the other driver ? ” asked the sergeant, turn- 
ing suddenly to Midgy. 

“ No — no, sir,” answered Midgy, startled. 

“ How did you know what driver he has been 
going with ? ” 

“ Oh, it’s always up on the call-board.” 

“ What’s the call-board ? ” 

“ A board in the office that tells what wagons 
we go on.” 

The sergeant turned quickly to Prall. 

“ Does the call-board tell whether a driver 
beats his team or not ? ” 

Prall’s eyes opened wide again. Then he 
laughed. “ No, of course not,” he said. 

“ Does it tell whether a wagon-boy beats the 
horses ? ” 


A Secret to Keep loi 

Prall was puzzled again. “ Why, no,’^ he said. 

The sergeant leaned back in his chair and 
smiled. Well,’' he said, ‘‘ I guess I understand 
this now. You are quite clear about everything 
you’ve told me here? ” 

‘‘ Yes, sir,” replied Prall. 

“ You haven’t told any lies? ” 

‘‘ Why, no — I wouldn’t lie to you.” 

Only fool with me, eh ? ” asked the sergeant 
quickly. 

‘‘ Why, I haven’t done any of that except when 
I told his name. Then I was just kidding him. 
It was a joke.” 

“ I see,” said the sergeant. Well, I’m willing 
to consider that a joke, but if that’s the only 
time in your answers when you were kidding, as 
you say, the rest of what you say is quite be- 
yond a joke.” He leaned forward quickly, and 
scowled at Prall. You say Whitehead is a new 
boy at the store, that you don’t know the driver 
he’s been riding with, that you never saw them 
on the wagon together, and your friend here 


102 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

says he never did, either. Yet, you have both 
undertaken to tell me what a mean-spirited fellow 
he is, how he is in the habit of beating horses, 
how he is always getting mad at nothing. You 
yourself told me you never knew him before 
he came to the store, and from what you say, you 
have had no chance to know him since he came. 
Yet you vilify him in every answer you give. 
You have told me that he crowded you on the 
seat, which is absurd, on the face of it, because 
he is smaller than you and there were two of 
you to one. You tell me he made your friend 
Midgy here do more than his share of the work, 
and when I asked you how he did it, you say he 
threatened to run away with your receipt-book. 
In the next breath you say he made the threat to 
compel you to let him ride.’’ 

The sergeant stopped a second. Prall’s eyes 
were staring now and his mouth hung open and 
he looked as frightened as if he was going to be 
whipped, but the sergeant gave him no chance 
to speak. 


A Secret to Keep 103 

YouVe lied to me at least three times since 
you started. It’s fair to suppose that at least half 
of the rest you’ve said is lies, and that leaves 
young Whitehead, here, all to the good. Now, 
what have you got to say?” 

Prall still stared at him for a minute; then 
his face got burning red again and he looked 
down. I could just imagine how ashamed he 
must be, but I was as much surprised as he was, 
for, though I knew when he was lying, of course, 
I didn’t think how the sergeant was catching him. 
Midgy was just as scared as Prall was, too, and 
he looked around quick with his eyes showing 
white all around, and then he commenced to cry. 

That’ll do now,” said the sergeant, cross to 
him, and then he turned to me. “ Now, young 
man,” he said, tell us just what happened.” 

Well, I felt that it was right to tell all about 
it then, and I did, and everybody listened all 
through, and even didn’t interrupt. When I got 
through, the sergeant turned to Prall and Midgy 
and asked them if what I said wasn’t the truth. 


104 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

Midgy nodded, but Prall just stood looking down 
and making marks on the white board floor with 
his shoe. Neither of them said a word and both 
their faces were redder than ever. 

The sergeant turned to me and started to say 
something, when all of a sudden somebody 
grabbed me from behind and turned me around, 
and there I saw the funny little man who had been 
so mad at me just after the runaway. I hadn’t 
even known before that he was there in the 
station. 

Well, well, well, well, well,” he said, and kept 
on saying it, two or three times, till I didn’t think 
he was going to stop. But he seemed all worked 
up and sorry that he’d been mean to me. “ Young 
man,” he went on, apologizing, ‘‘ it wasn’t you at 
all. I see it wasn’t. I know it wasn’t you. I 
know it wasn’t. You’re a victim, I can see that 
— a victim.” 

Well, I couldn’t help laughing then, though I 
was pretty nearly choking, too, with that funny 
feeling you get in your throat after any trouble 


A Secret to Keep 105 

you have is over and people begin to be good 
to you again. 

‘‘ It’s all right/’ I said, for I was afraid I’d 
cry again if he went on. 

But he did go on. ‘‘ I want to make it right,” 
he said. ‘‘ I must make it right. I’ve got to 
make it right. I insist on making it right. I 
insist on making it right.” He turned quickly to 
the sergeant. ‘‘ Sergeant, I’ll go bail for this boy. 
He’s on the square, he is — on the square. Put 
down my name. I’m Peter Holborn, of Holborn 
and Batterson. Here’s my card — my card. You 
know us. Now, I’ll go bail for this boy, I will. 
He’s all right. Put me down. I’m Peter Hol- 
born, I am.” And he went on till you’d almost 
think there must be something the matter 
with him. 

But I didn’t feel like laughing then, because 
he pulled a big handkerchief out of his pocket 
and began to wipe his eyes, and I could see he 
felt badly that he had said an untrue thing about 
me. Then I heard him whispering to himself. 


io6 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“ Always in hot water,” he was saying. “ Al- 
ways in hot water ! Such a temper ! Such a fool, 
I am ! ” And other things like that. It made me 
more and more sorry. 

Then I suddenly thought that people aren’t so 
mean in the world, after all, for here this man 
proved to be all right and the policemen all 
seemed to be all right now, too, and so I got 
ashamed that I’d made such a fuss, and especially 
about striking the policeman who stood next to 
me, so I turned to him. 

“ I’m sorry I tried to hit you,” I said. “ I 
hadn’t any business to. I thought nobody could 
understand me and I didn’t know what to do.” 

And he put his hand on my head, just as quick, 
and said : “ Handsome apology, youngster. That’s 
all right. I hadn’t any business to cuff you, 
either.” 

The sergeant was talking to Midgy and Prall 
again, but he turned to me just then and said, 
“ You may go, Whitehead, but keep away from 
this sort, after this.” 


A Secret to Keep 107 

Prall turned clear around at that, and gave me 
one look that I knew meant that he would try 
to get even sometime. But I wasn’t much afraid 
of him then. Besides, I was thinking about the 
little girl of the crutches who got hurt by our 
runaway, and I wanted to know about her. So, 
I turned right to the officer and asked him where 
she was. 

Oh,” he said. ‘‘ She’s in the matron’s room, 
I guess. Do you know her ? ” 

‘‘ No; I’ve seen her before, that’s all. Was she 
very badly hurt ? ” 

“ I don’t rightly know,’'^ he said. I guess not, 
or they wouldn’t have brought her here. They’d 
have taken her to the hospital. Let’s go and see.” 

The little man who talked so fast insisted on 
shaking hands with me, though, before we went, 
and he put one of his cards in my coat pocket. 
Then the policeman got a stiff brush and helped 
me brush all the mud off my clothes, and then 
we went to the room where I’d seen them take 
the stretcher. He knocked and somebody opened 


io8 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

the door, but just before I stepped in, I heard 
some men come into the street door of the station, 
and I glanced around and looked straight into 
the eyes of Howard, the detective. 

He saw me, too, and I could see that funny 
change in his face that you can always see in 
people’s faces when they recognize you. He 
stopped still, too, a minute and then came right 
towards me, as if he meant to get hold of me, 
sort of slow. But I didn’t wait. I just stepped 
into the matron’s room, and the policeman, who 
was ahead of me, closed the door without seeing 
the detective at all. I knew, though, from the 
way the detective had looked at me, that he 
hadn’t forgotten how Mr. Fleming had spoken 
to him in the private office and that he thought 
it was partly my fault and that he hadn’t gotten 
through with me. I was afraid of him, too, 
ever since I’d seen the way he did with Rick. 
I expected he’d follow us right into the matron’s 
room, too, and I looked around for a way to 
get out, but didn’t see any. Then, as second 


A Secret to Keep 109 

after second, and the minutes passed and he 
didn’t come, I thought he probably knew I 
couldn’t get out any other way, so he would wait 
for me outside. 

But the matron, a gray-haired, kind-faced lady, 
who, she told me afterwards, stays at the station 
just to take care of people like the little crutches- 
girl, as r called her to myself, — the matron came 
up to us then and the policeman asked about the 
little girl. 

She’s hurt worse than I thought at first. I’m 
afraid,” she said. I think we’ll have to send 
her to the hospital. It seems she’s a cripple any- 
way, and the doctor said he couldn’t tell just 
how much hurt she was without a careful 
examination.” 

I see,” the policeman said. 

But, won’t she get well ? ” I asked. I could 
have cried, I felt so bad about her. 

Oh, sure she will,” the matron answered, 
looking at me and smiling. She’ll get well — 
that is, as well as she’s ever been, I guess.” Then 


no Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

she spoke to the officer again. “ It’s funny, 
though, she won’t tell where she lives.” 

“ She won’t?” 

“ No. She just won’t answer a question about 
that. She’s clear enough about other things — ex- 
cept her name. I think she gave us a wrong 
name. She seems scared.” 

" Queer ! ” said the policeman. 

“ How did she get hurt ? ” I asked, for I wanted 
to know. I hadn’t seen her on the street or any- 
where till she was brought into the station and 
I had had so much trouble with everybody that I 
hadn’t remembered to ask. 

“ She was in the car,” answered the matron. 
“ I don’t know how she was hurt, though. Some- 
thing hit her in the back, she says.” 

“Can she talk?” 

“ Bless you, yes. Do you want to see her ? 
Are you a friend of hers ? ” 

“ I’d like to see her,” I said, “ but I don’t know 
her. I’ve seen her before, and I know where 
she lives.” 


1 1 1 


A Secret to Keep 

“ Oh, you do? Well, come in and talk to her 
a minute then, and afterwards I’ll send word by 
you to her folks. We’ll send her to the hospital 
as soon as the ambulance gets back from a hurry- 
up call they had.” 

We went into an inner room, through a door 
behind a screen, and we found the little girl lying 
on her back on the matron’s bed. She was cov- 
ered up with a blanket or something, but her eyes 
were wide open and they looked so frightened 
that it was too bad for anything. She looked 
up at me,^ and then at the policeman, and then 
at the matron, and then at me again. I felt sort 
of funny, just at first, because she didn’t know 
me, when I remembered her so well. But, of 
course, she didn’t because she hadn’t seen me at 
all when I saw her. 

“ Here’s somebody to see you, honey, the 
matron said to her, as kind as could be, and then 
the girl’s eyes stayed right on me all the time. I 
was a little bashful, for I didn’t know just what 
to say, but when the matron and the policeman 


1 12 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

went over to the window to talk together, I 
didn’t seem to mind so much. 

“ I’m sorry you got hurt,” I said. 

“ Are you? ” she asked. » 

That sort of surprised me. It seemed such a 
queer answer. “ Yes, of course,” I said. “ I was 
in the runaway. The horses got scared and ran 
a long ways before we struck the car. You 
were in the car, weren’t you ? ” 

“ Yes,” she said. 

“ Did you get very much hurt ? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ Don’t know ? Can’t you tell ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Why not ? I should think it would hurt some- 
where if you got struck in the back.” 

“ My back always hurts,” she said, soft and 
quiet. 

That seemed terrible to me, so I had to ask 
another question quick, so she wouldn’t think 
I was mean to make her speak about it. 

“ I saw you once before,” I said. 


A Secret to Keep 1 1 3 

‘‘ Did you ? she said, her eyes looking at me 
queer. 

Yes — in your house.’' 

‘‘ Where ? ” she said, and she seemed to think 
it was very wonderful, or else she was frightened 
again. 

Back of Fleming’s store, just the other 
night,” I said. At that minute I couldn’t just 
remember how long ago it was, for so many 
things had happened in such a little while that 
it seemed as much as a week. 

I don’t know when,” she said. 

“ It was last night,” I said, remembering. I 
ran into the back door of a hall at your house, 
to get away from some people, and you came 
out pretty soon afterwards, while I was there, 
and you looked out of the door first and then 
locked it and carried away the key.” 

‘‘ Yes,” she just whispered quickly. Was 
you in the hall ? ” 

Yes,” I said, and I had to go out up the 
stairs and over through the front of the build- 


1 14 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 
ing, and a man chased me and I fell headlong 
downstairs.” 

She looked at me a long time, hardly breath- 
ing, and then she said, “ I believe you are the 
boy.” 

“ Of course I am, but how do you know ? You 
can’t see in the dark, can you ? ” 

“ I heard you and then I saw you through the 
front window, when father chased you.” 

“ Was it your father chased me? ” 

She jumped, as if she’d said something she 
ought not to, and then she looked at me. 

“ Yes,” she said. “ And it was him you locked 
out into the alley. He thought I did it. But 
don’t tell,” she added, whispering again. 

“No, of course not,” I said, “but why not? 
It won’t hurt anybody now.” 

“ Because,” she said. 

“ That’s no reason.” 

“ It is one for me.” 

“ Well, he didn’t catch me, so it’s all right.” 

“ And don’t tell them where I live,” she said, 


A Secret to Keep 1 1 5 

all at once, and so anxious that it surprised me 
again. 

“ Not if you don’t want me to,” I said. “ But 
why ? ” 

“ Never mind,” she answered, “ only don’t, 
please — to please me.” 

She smiled then, but I saw something was 
hurting her by the way the red went out of 
her face, and it scared me so that I called the 
matron quick, but before the woman came, the 
girl grabbed hold of my hand and whispered 
again : 

“ Don’t you never, never tell, or I’ll never 
forgive you — ^you promised.” 

“ What’s that that’s promised ? ” asked the 
matron, who came over to us quick. “ What’s 
the matter, little one ? ” 

“ Nothing — ^just my back,” she said, and she 
smiled again. 

I felt awfully sorry for her, because it was 
perfectly plain it hurt her, and I pretty soon found 
out that she smiled every time the pain came, just 


1 1 6 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

as if she was bound not to let anybody know 
anything about it. 

“ You’d better go then, my boy,” said the 
matron to me, and I got up, but the little crutches- 
girl turned quick and held out her hand. 

“ Promise ! Promise me ! ” she said, almost 
crying, “ never, never, cross your heart.” 

“ I never, never will,” I said. 

The matron laughed. “ What a solemn prom- 
ise ! ” she said. 

But the little girl looked so afraid that I 
reached over and took hold of her little, thin 
hand and just squeezed it, so she’d know. And 
I was glad I did, because her face looked easier 
again, just as I went out. It seemed very strange 
— mysterious, father says to call it — ^that she 
wouldn’t let me tell where she lived. I remem- 
bered when I got to the door, too, that she 
hadn’t told her name, either, but I couldn’t go 
back and ask her then. 

The matron followed me into the outside room. 
“ You go and tell her mother — that she’s hurt. 


A Secret to Keep 1 1 7 

will you ? And tell her that she will be at Mercy 
Hospital, where she can find her to-night/' Then 
she turned to speak to the policeman again for 
a minute, and I didn't listen, because I couldn't 
think of anything but the little crutches-girl. Of 
course, I wasn't to blame because she got hurt, 
but it seemed sort of like it because I had been 
in the wagon that made the collision. It seemed 
hard enough for her that she should have to be 
lame anyway, without getting hurt again the way 
she was now. I wondered how it would feel to 
be lame, so you had to use crutches all the time, 
and I thought then of how awful it would be 
if she was hurt now so she never could walk 
even that way again. 

I began to feel as if I'd known her quite a 
while now, though I never saw her but once 
before. I was so sorry for her, and, even if I 
wasn't to blame for getting her hurt, it seemed 
very queer that I should be the one to see her 
first here after seeing her in the dark passage. 
It's funny how those things happen the way 


1 1 8 Witter Whitehead^s Own Story 

they do. It's just like when you learn a new word 
at school, you're almost sure to find it in a story- 
book the very next day — or the next. I'd only 
seen her once, just happening to then, and here 
I'd talked to her and I was the only one who 
knew where she lived, and she'd made me promise 
not to tell. And I never would tell, either, though 
it seemed sort of a foolish thing to promise. 

I was wondering how I was going to keep 
from telling the policemen though, for I thought 
probably they'd ask me, and I was sorry I'd said 
I knew where she lived, when our policeman 
turned around and opened the door. I'd been 
so busy thinking that I'd forgotten a good deal 
about the things that had happened with the 
sergeant, but when the door opened, I looked 
out and thought of Prall and Midgy, right away, 
and wondered if they had been kept or let go. 
But I didn't have a minute, hardly, to look around, 
for the instant I stepped out of the room, I saw 
Howard the detective standing over by the desk. 

He had his back to us and didn't look around 


A Secret to Keep 119 

at first, so I thought I’d perhaps get away without 
his seeing me. So I just said good-by and thank 
you to the policeman and was just turning to- 
wards the door, when Howard whirled around 
quick, and shouted: 

“ Here ! Stop that boy ! I want him ! ” 


CHAPTER V 


UNANSWERED QUESTIONS 

When the detective shouted out at me, it made 
the cold shivers run up and down my back and 
I went weak all over, but I knew that Pd rather 
do almost anything than be caught by him, for 
I knew he probably just wanted to try to make 
me confess things that weren't so. I was so tired 
and my head ached now so hard, that I felt as if 
I couldn't stand much more, so I turned, just as 
quick as I could, and ran for the door. 

It was only a few steps away and it stood 
wide open, and as nobody was so near to it as 
I was, I got there and out before they could 
stop me. I really think nobody tried very hard, 
for, though two or three policemen moved when 
Howard yelled, they didn't move very quick. But 
I heard Howard's feet run across the marble floor, 
loud, and I ran like lightning down the steps and 


120 


Unanswered Questions 121 

then across the street and around the corner, and 
so away toward the store. Once I looked around 
— just as I turned the corner it was — and Howard 
was still after me. I can remember just how he 
looked, for he ran with his shoulders all humped 
up and his head back, as if it was hard work for 
him to run at all. 

I thought I could beat him, and I did. I ran 
all the way to the store. Of course, it wasn’t 
very far, but as I said, I was tired out and had 
a headache, and when I got there it seemed as 
if the top of my head would come right off, be- 
cause I had run so. But I found Mr. Farley and 
some of the boys in the shipping-room, and Mr. 
Farley made me stop and tell him about the 
runaway, of which he’d heard. I told him 
Howard was after me, but he surprised me very 
much by saying that he thought Howard would 
let me alone and would never come to the store 
after me, because Mr. Fleming was angry about 
the way he had done with Rick. He said Mr. 
Fleming had told him all about it, and it seems 


122 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

Mr. Fleming was a good deal more angry at 
Howard than I had thought. Mr. Farley said he 
had told him that he wouldn’t have Howard 
around the place again. 

Well, I wasn’t much afraid then, so I told Mr. 
Farley and the boys who were there all about 
our runaway and all about what happened at 
the police-station, only I didn’t say anything about 
the little crutches-girl. Some way I didn’t seem 
to want to tell about her. I was afraid they 
wouldn’t understand, and a fellow can’t talk 
about a girl before a crowd like that. But they 
were all as interested as could be in the rest of 
the story. I found out that there weren’t very 
many who liked Frail and Midgy, and that they 
thought I did all right in it all. Mr. Farley said, 
of course, it was very unfortunate, because the 
wagon was all smashed up, and it didn’t do horses 
any good to run like that, but he didn’t talk much 
about it. 

It was pretty late then, and so we weren’t very 
busy and we talked quite a long time, and while 


Unanswered Questions 123 

we were talking Rick Neufer and Dib Web came 
in. I found out afterwards that they had been 
put on a new wagon together, with a driver they 
liked, so it was pretty nice for them. I wished 
we three could be together, for I like Dib Web, 
and of course Rick is a mighty nice little fellow. 
I thought Dib was almost old enough to drive, 
too. He is bigger than I am. 

Well, when I got through talking to them, I 
knew I had to go and tell the little crutches-girl's 
mother about her, so I asked Mr. Farley to let me 
go out for a few minutes, and he looked at me 
sharp, and seemed to see I had a headache, and 
he told me to go home and not come back till 
morning; so I started. 

I went out through the front way and then 
around the store, for I didn’t want anybody to 
wonder where I was going. But I never thought 
of anything else, but just of the little girl and 
her folks, when, all at once I looked up, near the 
corner of the store and the alley, and there I saw 
the blind man. I remembered then that he had 


124 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

said to come see him again, about his plan for 
trapping the store-thief, so I turned to go to him 
then. 

“ Hello ! ” he said, before I’d really gotten up 
to him. 

“ Hello ! ” I said. “ How’d you know who it 
was ? ” 

“ I can tell footsteps,” he answered. 

“ I don’t really believe you know who I am 
now,” I said. 

“ Oh, yes, I do. * You’re the boy that crawled 
out of the window.” 

That sounded as if he could tell, but still he 
might have known my voice. It wouldn’t seem 
as if he could tell my walk when so many people 
were passing all the time. 

“ You said you wanted to see me again,” I 
said. 

“ I wish I could see you, my dear boy,” he 
answered, sad. 

It seemed to me I just , said things to make 
people feel bad that day. I’d hurt the little 


Unanswered Questions 125 

crutches-girl, and now I thought Td hurt him, but 
he didn’t seem to mind after a minute. 

‘‘ I meant to say that you said you wanted to 
talk to me,” I said as carefully as I could. 

I do,” he said, but I’m not ready yet, and 
won’t be for a few days now. So you come 
and see me the first of next week. Monday or 
Tuesday night will do.” 

It was only Wednesday night then, so that 
made me a little impatient. But I had a good 
many things to do, and it seemed such a long 
time since I had been home, even though it was 
just that morning, that I wasn’t all sorry. 

“ Well, I’ll come,” I said, and then I went on. 

I went around the block into the next street, 
and to the doorway where I’d run away from 
the man who chased me, after I first saw the little 
crutches-girl. I had to think a little to figure out 
which would be the building the little girl lived 
in. I remembered that the curtained door she 
had gone into from the dark passage was on the 
left side, so I knew of course, that from the front, 


1 26 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

the place she lived in would be on the right of 
the stairway. I looked at that place and found 
a funny, narrow little store between two of the 
big ones. It had some old dusty-looking things 
in the window, and seemed a curious sort of place. 
I found out that the man who kept it sold old 
things — I mean things that are so old that peo- 
ple like to have them for curiosities, whether 
they are pretty or good for anything or not. 
Most of the things I saw in the window were not, 
I thought. 

I went inside and found an old man there. He 
had a white beard and wore spectacles in black 
frames and scowled at me. He was working over 
some old book, turning the leaves over and over 
and over, first one way and then the other, and 
looking up and down the pages. He looked 
at me once and scowled, then back at the book 
again, then at me and scowled again. 

What do you want, boy? ’’ he asked. 

I want to find if a little girl lives here,’’ I 
said. 


Unanswered Questions 127 

“ What girl?” 

“ A girl that I saw here yesterday.” 

“ You never saw a girl here.” 

“Yes, I did.” 

“ No, you didn’t.” 

“ Well, it was at the back door.” 

“ That isn’t here.” 

“ No,” I said, and I wished he wouldn’t be so 
particular. “ She was at the back door.” 

He stared at me in a funny way. 

“Well?” he asked. 

“ Does she live in here ? ” , 

“ I told you no.” 

I thought he needn’t be so cross and almost 
told him so, then I remembered about getting mad 
at the policeman and how sorry I was for that, 
and so I tried not to care. Maybe this man would 
be all right, too, when I knew him. 

“ Well, I mean, do you know where she lives ? ” 
I asked him. 

“ Why don’t you say what you mean the first 
time ? What is her name ? ” 


1 28 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“I don’t know.” 

“ Well, how do you expect me to know her if 
you can’t tell me her name ? ” 

“ This one has crutches,” I said. I hated to 
say it, for I thought maybe he was her father, — 
but I had to. 

“ Crutches ? ” He looked up quick. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ What do you want of her ? ” 

“ I want to see her mother.” 

“ What for?” 

“ I’ve got to tell her something.” 

“ Well, she hasn’t got any mother.” 

He said it very quick and sharp, and it startled 
me so much that for a minute I didn’t know what 
to say, and then I said right out the thing that 
I thought. 

“ Oh, the poor little girl ! ” 

I was almost as sorry for her as I could be 
before, but when I found out that she didn’t have 
any mother to take care of her when her back 
hurt her, it seemed as if she didn’t have any- 


Unanswered Questions 129 

thing much. But the man laid the book down 
quick when I said that and looked at me. 

‘‘Who are you?’’ he asked me. 

“ Witter Whitehead,” I said. “ I work at 
Fleming’s store.” 

“ What do you know about the little girl ? ” 

“ She got hurt in a runaway I was in to-day, 
and is going to be taken to Mercy Hospital.” 

“ She is ? Well, well ! That’s bad ! Is she bad 
hurt?” 

He began to get quite excited now, and pretty 
soon he came around the end of the counter and 
made me come up to the light, and looked at me. 

“ Did you see her ? ” he asked. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Where is she now ? ” 

“ At the police-station.” 

“ At the station, eh? ” 

He stopped and looked out of the window, 
thinking. 

“ Did she tell you she lived here? ” he asked, 
after a minute. 


1 30 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“ No, sir. She wouldn’t tell. But I’d seen her 
before at the back door, so I knew.” 

“ Oh, you had. Do you know her father? ” 

“ No, sir. I thought maybe you were her 
father.” 

“ No!” 

He stopped short again. Then, all at once, he 
said, “ But I’ll tell him. Now go I ” 

Not a word of thanks or of any more ques- 
tions or anything, and when I looked up at him 
again, he began pushing me toward the door 
with his hands on my shoulders. 

“ Will you tell me her name? ” I asked. 

“ What do you want of her name?” he said, 
scowling again. “ No, I won’t.” 

Well, I couldn’t do anything else but go out 
of the store, but I couldn’t think what in the world 
made him act so, as he did. It seemed a very 
queer thing that he wouldn’t tell me her name, 
and I couldn’t understand that at all. There 
was something very queer about it all. If she 
wouldn’t tell her name or where she lived, and 


Unanswered Questions 131 

he wouldn’t tell her name, then there must be 
some very queer reason indeed. 

I started away, but I’d only gone a few steps 
when I heard the old man calling after me. 

“ Boy ! ” he shouted. “ Here, boy, come back 
here.” 

I didn’t really want to go, but I thought I’d 
better, and as soon as I reached him, he put a 
quarter into my hand and said quickly : 

“ There now ! Go ! That’s for telling me 
about her, but don’t tell anybody else.” 

“ Why not ? ” I asked. 

“ Because ! ” he said, angry. “ Don’t fell any- 
body else either, if you don’t want me after you. 
I know where you work ! ” 

Well, that was queerer than ever, and when 
I turned away to go home, I was pretty full of 
thoughts about it. I didn’t want that quarter 
either, for, though I had promised the little girl 
not to tell, and didn’t intend to tell, I didn’t want 
to be paid like that for it, as if it was some mean 
thing I was bound to do by it. I thought about 


132 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

it so much, and it bothered me so much, that I 
could hardly be comfortable on the train going 
home at all. What if thefe was something ter- 
rible that made the little girl afraid to tell, and 
made the old man afraid that I’d tell where she 
lived? I couldn’t think what any such thing 
might be, but I remembered he seemed not to 
like it when I said she was at the police-station. 
I began to think it was pretty serious. 

When I got home, mother said I looked as if I 
was sick, and she made me tell her what the 
matter was, so I had to tell just part of it. I 
told about the runaway, and tried to make it as 
little as I could, for I knew she was all tired out 
herself. I couldn’t let her know the rest, and I 
didn’t get a chance to tell father then, when I felt 
that maybe I’d better, for he was asleep, and 
when he waked up, it was after I’d gone to bed. 
Mother gave me something to eat, and then made 
me go to bed right away, and stay till morning. 

In the morning I felt all right again, and I 
thought I had done right not to tell, because I 


Unanswered Questions 133 

knew both father and mother would think about it 
and worry about it all day^ if I did. I wished 
father was well, though, so I could tell him, for 
I wanted to know what to do. 

Well, I had a pleasant surprise that day, for 
I found I was to go out on a wagon that had my 
old driver, — his name was Halley, — and Rick was 
to go, too. Mr. Farley told me he had fixed it 
that way because he wanted me to take care 
of Rick. I was very glad, only I wished Dib Web 
could go, too. But Dib had another good wagon. 
Prall and Midgy weren’t there, and nobody knew 
anything about them before I went out on a trip. 

Rick and I talked a good deal that day. I 
won’t need to write about it all, because a good 
deal of it hasn’t anything to do with this story. 
But he told me all about himself and his father, 
who was a violin player in an orchestra, and his 
mother, who gave music lessons, and then he said 
he could sing. I never thought much about boys 
singing before. Of course, I knew they did in 
some churches, and I found out that Rick sang in 


134 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

the boy-choir at St. Luke’s. I was a good deal 
interested, and asked him a lot about it, and it’s 
very queer how much all that had to do with 
the things that happened afterwards. 

Rick asked me if I wouldn’t go to choir-prac- 
tice with him the next night, because he was 
going to sing alone — a solo, they call it — in 
church the next Sunday, and he wanted me to 
hear him. He talks funny, as I said, and this 
is how he asked me : 

“ I would like it that you should hear me to 
sing.” 

I didn’t laugh at him, because he tried so hard 
to say everything just right. 

“ I’ll go,” I said, “ if mother’ll let me.” 

“ Good ! ” he said. “ I hope that it is you will 
like the solo.” 

“Of course, I will,” I said. 

His face just smiles all over when he’s pleased, 
and it did then. 

“ We will go at the seven of the clock,” he 
went on, “ because the church is far, and we must 


Unanswered Questions 135 

not to be late. The church is where you know.” 
He named the street and I knew. 

Well, we had an easy day, that day. Nothing 
hardly happened at all. I thought about Howard 
and about Moss, the blind man, and about the 
little crutches-girl. It was such a little bit of 
while since I’d first seen any of them, and yet 
I was so much interested in them all. And I 
wondered how it would all come out about the 
thieves at the store. I wished I knew who they 
were or could find out, because Mr. Farley and 
Mr. Fleming had been so good to me and Rick. 
I thought I would be very glad when I could hear 
what the blind man thought, and what his plan 
was. It was queer he should be so interested, but 
I could see how much good it might do him if he 
pleased Mr. Fleming. 

I thought maybe Howard the detective would 
come to the store after me that night, in spite 
of what Mr. Farley had said, but he didn’t. But 
something else had happened that I hadn’t even 
thought about. The boys had two newspapers. 


136 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

one a morning paper and one an evening paper, 
and in each one of them there was a story about 
our runaway. And, what do you think, neither 
of them had it right. They told about it as if 
they knew all about it, but they didn’t tell it 
alike, and there were things in the stories that 
didn’t happen at all. But the funniest thing was 
that in both papers they had the names of Prall 
and Midgy right, but gave mine as Barney 
McGinnes. 

I told Rick and Dib and Mr. Farley about 
Prall’s telling the police sergeant that was my 
name, for I had forgotten it myself before, and 
we laughed and laughed about it. But one of 
the papers went on with a lot more, and when 
I read that it didn’t seem so funny. It said that 
a little girl had been hurt in the car by a broken 
piece of window frame hitting her in the back 
and that she wouldn’t tell her name or where she 
lived. It said that a boy had been found who 
claimed to know where she lived, and that he had 
been told to take a message to her people, but that 


Unanswered Questions 137 

so far no one had been to the hospital to see 
the little girl. It was the morning paper that 
had that part of the story, and so I knew from 
it that the little girl’s father hadn’t gone to see 
her, and maybe the curiosity man hadn’t told 
him to go. 

I thought that was the strangest part of the 
whole thing, for, of course, a man would go to 
see his little girl very quick, when she was hurt 
like that, if he knew about it. And I didn’t see 
how anybody could forget to tell such a thing 
if it depended on him to get the news to the 
people who ought to care. I couldn’t understand 
it at all, and so, after thinking about it a long 
time, I told Dib and Rick all about it, but, though 
they thought it just as strange as I did, they 
didn’t know what to do, either. 

“ Why don’t you go back to the curiosity store 
and see the man again? ” Dib asked. 

‘‘ Maybe I’d better,” I said. So we agreed to 
go together after the store closed that night, 
and we did. 


138 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

Well, when we got to the store where I’d seen 
the old man with the beard the night before, I left 
Rick and Dib outside, because I thought it would 
look funny for them to go in with me, and I 
went in alone. At first I thought nobody was 
in the store. There weren’t many lights, and it 
looked pretty dim; but when I made a noise, I 
heard somebody start from the back part and 
come very fast towards me, and pretty soon a 
big, fat young man, with very black eyes and 
black hair and skin that was almost like an 
Indian’s, came up behind the counter and looked 
at me. 

“ Where is the man that keeps the shop ? ” I 
asked. 

“ Right here,” he answered. 

“ Oh, do you own it ? ” I asked, and I was quite 
astonished, for I supposed the old man was the 
owner. 

“ Yes, what of it? ” he said. 

“ I want to see the old man with the beard that 


I saw here last night.” 


Unanswered Questions 139 

I don’t know him,” he answered. 

Don’t know him ! ” I exclaimed. 

No,” he said. “ You’re in the wrong store.” 

For a minute I thought maybe I was, but, when 
I looked around I remembered the things. 

No,” I said, ‘‘ I saw an old man with a white 
beard here last night, and I told him about the 
little crutches-girl, and how she got hurt, and 
he said he’d tell her father.” 

The young man shook his head. No,” he said 
again, not here.” 

Well, then I did feel funny. I knew I was 
right, and I knew I had seen the old man there 
and had told him about the little girl, and I knew 
I hadn’t dreamed about it, because I still had the 
quarter he’d given me in my pocket. I couldn’t 
see at all how it was, but I began to think that 
things weren’t right around that store and maybe 
around the little girl, too, and I got so excited 
I didn’t know what to say. The young man just 
stood looking at me, with his elbows on the show- 
case and his big fat fingers folding a piece of 


140 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

paper over and over. Then, all at once, I thought 
I just had to find out about it. 

“ But I know I saw him here,” I said, “ and 
I came again because the little girl’s father didn’t' 
go to the hospital to see her, and I thought maybe 
the old man didn’t tell him, or he was sick or 
something.” 

“ No,” said the young man, again, still shak- 
ing his head. “ You’ve made a mistake. It 
wasn’t here. You’ve got another guess coming. 
Go look in next door.” 

He turned away from me, and I had to leave 
then, for I could see that he would never tell 
me anything, so I went outside and met Dib and 
Rick and told them. But, right in the middle 
of telling them, I happened to look up at the 
store-window, and there, peeking out at me with 
a very funny look in his face, was the dark-faced 
young man, and just the instant he saw me look 
up, he moved back and away from the window, 
trying to seem careless, as if he hadn’t looked. 

“ I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” I said to 


Unanswered Questions 141 

the boys. “ I’m going to go upstairs into the 
building here and over down those back stairs 
towards Fleming’s and see if I can’t find some- 
body else. Maybe, the little girl and her father 
just lived back of the store, and these people in 
front haven’t really anything to do with them.” 

I didn’t really think that, but I talked just the 
way you do sometimes, when your thoughts go 
so fast that you can’t keep up with them, and you 
begin a sentence and then think you have to finish 
it some way. But Dib and Rick said I ought 
to go and try to find out, and we talked a little 
about it. We didn’t believe anybody could do 
anything to me for just trying to find the girl’s 
father, and so, after a while, I started. 

The hallway when I went up the stairs seemed 
pretty dark to me, though the lamp that I remem- 
bered was burning again, and I could see all right. 
It was very still and it seemed, all the time I was 
in the building, as if no one else were there 
at all. I found the back stairway, and crept down 
to the hall without hearing anything but the noise 


142 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

I made myself. But when I got to the bottom 
of the stairs and felt for the curtained door, I 
found a wooden door, tight closed and locked, in 
its place, and when I knocked, nobody answered. 

I went back to the boys, and we all thought 
everything that happened around that place 
seemed to make it more mysterious. We talked 
about it and walked away and back around by 
the store, and just as we were passing the alley- 
corner, I looked around and I saw somebody 
suddenly come out of the back door of that place 
— the door I ran into on the night I fooled the 
detectives — ^and hurry away down the alley, in 
the opposite direction from ours. 

Of course, it might have been somebody from 
another part of the building, but I thought it 
looked like the fat young man with the dark face, 
though I couldn’t be sure. 

Well, I dreamed about those things that night, 
but next day something happened that almost 
made me forget them. Mother said I might go 
with Rick to the choir-practice, and I took lunch 


Unanswered Questions 143 

enough to make supper for the night, too, so that 
I would not need to go home after the store closed. 
But when I saw Rick that morning and started 
to tell him, he didn’t pay any attention and just 
broke right into what I was saying. And when 
I heard what he said, we didn’t talk about any- 
thing else for quite a while. 

“ What you think ? ” Rick said, interrupting 
me when I thought he’d be glad to hear I was 
going, “ the store it was robbed last night.” 

“ Robbed?” 

“ Yes, thieves they did take much solid silver.” 

“ Silver ? ” I said. “ Oh, they’ve been at it 
again ? ” 

“ The robbing that it was done before was 
sneak-thief robbing only. This it has been bur- 
glary on the large scale.” 

“ Well, but how could they ? Where were the 
watchmen ? ” 

“ One of them was beat on the head with a 
stick till it was that he was insensible and the 
other is disappeared.” 


144 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“ Disappeared ! ” 

“ Yes. It is not that they are able to find 
him.” 

Rick looked pale when he said this, and I 
began to understand how serious it was. We 
went upstairs into the store, for the silver room 
was right over us, and we found a terrible-look- 
ing place. Of course, the police were there and 
wouldn’t let us in, but one of the first coppers I 
saw was the big one who went in to see the 
little crutches-girl with me at the station, and 
he remembered me. He stood at the door and 
pointed out to us where the show-cases were 
smashed in and where the thieves had split open 
the doors of the big glass closets where the 
silver was displayed. The room looked as if 
a gang of men had been through it and clubbed 
the cases right and left, everything broken that 
they could lay their hands on. It didn’t seem as 
if they could possibly have done it without some- 
body outside hearing them, but they hadn’t been 
caught and nobody had any idea who they were. 


Unanswered Questions 145 

“ Do you think. they will catch them? ” I asked 
the policeman. 

“ I don’t know,” he said. “ I think they 
haven’t much idea who did it, yet. They don’t 
seem to work as if they did.” 

He seemed kind of angry about something, as 
if he didn’t like the way the others were work- 
ing, and just then another officer came up and 
spoke to him, and pretty soon I understood. 

“ Hello, Benson,” said the new man, and that 
was the first time I knew his name. “ You aren’t 
sore, are you ? ” 

“ Yes, I am,” Mr. Benson said. 

“ Well, don’t you mind,” the other man said, 
“ maybe they will have to come around to your 
idea after a while. It’s just because you and 
Howard quarreled that Maybury won’t give you 
any attention.” 

I thought anybody might quarrel with How- 
ard, so I didn’t blame Mr. Benson, but the two 
policemen talked till I knew that Howard and 
Mr. Benson hadn’t liked each other for a long 


146 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

time, because Mr. Benson had made Howard stop 
being mean to a woman he had questioned one 
day — probably just like the way Mr. Fleming 
had made him stop talking to Rick. And Howard 
had got him transferred from the place he liked 
to one he didn’t like, just to get even. 

“ But what I want to know, now,” Mr. Ben- 
son said, after a while, “ is, whether this was 
done by people inside or outside the store. That 
lock on the east door looks to me as if it was 
opened from inside first and then smashed after- 
wards. It doesn’t look like a crack’s work 
to me.” 

“ I think there was a confederate inside the 
store,” the other man said. “ And I think the 
Morse gang did the work.” 

“ No doubt about it.” 

“If we could get our hands into that gang 
once, we’d put an end to a good many of these 
burglaries. But they are smooth.” 

“ They’ve covered their tracks all right. If 
Howard ever finds ’em, it’ll be the best thing 


Unanswered Questions 147 
he ever did and will make him chief of 
detectives.” 

“ Whoever makes the find will be due for 
promotion.” 

“ Yes, but what chance has anybody but How- 
ard got?” 

“ Well, Howard hasn’t such a good one, for 
Fleming won’t allow him in the store now, you 
know, and he can only work on the outside.” 

I liked to listen and I wondered if I would 
ever get anything I could tell the blind man, to 
help his plan. I wondered how much he knew, 
and I wished I could have him talk to Mr. Ben- 
son. Still I knew he wouldn’t want me to tell 
Mr. Benson about him or his plan till I asked 
him first. And that made me wonder if the 
blind man knew about the robbery. 

It was time for us to go back downstairs, and 
we started, but I told Rick I was going outside 
a minute, and I did. I ran around to the alley 
corner, where the blind man often was, hoping to 
find him, but he wasn’t there, and I thought 


148 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

probably it was too early for him. So I had to 
go back without seeing him. But after the 
wagons were loaded, which was about an hour 
later, I went back again to the corner, and still 
the blind man hadn’t come. 

I was thinking about it and was going back 
slow to the shipping-room, when Dib met me 
and stopped me just at the head of the stairs. 

“ Say, Witter,” he said, “ wait ! Don’t go 
down yet.” 

“Why?” I asked. 

“ Because,” he answered, and commenced to 
walk on past me and motioned me to follow him 
away from the stairs. 

“Hold on,” I said. “What’s the matter?” 

“ The police are after you again,” he said. 

“ The police ! ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Well, but what police?” 

“ I don’t know. Nobody I ever saw before.” 

“ Not Howard ? ” I asked. 

“ No — oh, no, not him ! ” 


( 


Unanswered Questions 149 

“ Well, who? ” 

“ I don’t know, I tell you.” 

“ How do you know they want me ? ” 

“ I heard ’em ask Farley if a boy named Bar- 
ney McGinnes works here.” 


CHAPTER VI 


THE MAN WHO LIGHTED MATCHES 

At first I wanted to laugh when Dib said the 
police were looking for Barney McGinnes. Then 
I began to think that was very strange, for they 
knew that wasn’t my real name. Then I couldn’t 
imagine what they wanted of me, and I began to 
worry, because it might be something more about 
Prall and Midgy, and I didn’t want to be mixed 
up in that any more if I could help it. 

So Dib and I waited for quite a while, till we 
thought the policemen might be gone from the 
shipping-room, and then we went back. And the 
very first people we met were Prall and Midgy, 
together, just coming out of the place. They 
both looked at me, and Prall sort of stopped and 
then Midgy stopped, and then they both came 
over towards me. I thought they were going 

to fight, so I told Dib to keep close to me. 

150 


The Man Who Lighted Matches 151 

“You’re a fine one, aren’t you?” Prall said, 
commencing first. 

“ I don’t know what you might call it,” I 
answered. 

“ You squealed on us.” 

“ You started it.” 

“ And you got us arrested.” 

“ I didn’t. You got yourself arrested. I don’t 
care anyway. You had it coming to you.” 

“ Is that so? Well, you’ve got something com- 
ing to you, too, now. We ain’t going to forget. 
You think it’s mighty good that we got fined, 
and you’ll know pretty quick that we’re fired, too. 
But we’re going to remember you.” 

I was a good deal surprised to hear what they 
said, but I wasn’t so much afraid of them, for 
I thought the only thing they could do now was 
to try to catch me alone on the street sometime 
and whip me. I know Midgy could never dare 
try it alone, and, after the way Prall had acted 
when I made him let me into the wagon, I thought 
I could take care of myself. So I just turned 


152 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

then and walked on and didn’t pay any attention 
when they hollered “ coward ” after me. 

But when we got to Mr. Farley’s desk, the 
first thing he said to me was : “ Whitehead, a 
policeman has been here asking for Barney Mc- 
Ginnes. I guess he meant you.” 

“What did he want?” 

“ He says you told them at headquarters that 
you knew where that little girl lived who was 
hurt.” 

“ I did.” 

“ Well, they wanted to know if you told her 
folks, and then they wanted to know where the 
place is. I couldn’t tell ’em, but I said you’d be 
back this noon. I thought you’d gone out.” 

“ No,” I said. 

Then I began to think pretty fast. If they 
asked me to tell where the little girl lived, it 
would be hard for me to keep my promise not 
to tell, and, if I kept my promise, they might 
make me go to jail, I thought. Then, if I didn’t 
tell the police about how I couldn’t get word to 


The Man Who Lighted Matches 153 

the little girl’s father, perhaps nobody would ever 
go to see her, and that would be terrible. I was 
always so sorry for her, every time I thought of 
her, and everything about her seemed so strange, 
I began to worry because maybe I wasn’t doing 
the right thing not to let her know I couldn’t 
find her father or to tell the police, in spite of my 
promise, where she had lived. 

I thought and thought that morning while we 
were out on the wagon, and by the time noon 
came I had made up my mind what to do. I 
thought I would just tell the policeman to take 
me to see her, and then I would tell her what I’d 
found at the curiosity-store and ask her to let me 
tell the police, so they could find her father. 

But when I got in at noon, no policemen were 
there, and if they had been, I guess Mr. Farley 
was so busy he’d forgotten about it for the time. I 
found something else new had happened, though. 
Mr. Fleming had offered a reward of two hundred 
dollars to the person who should find out who the 
burglars were and where they were, and every- 


154 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

body was talking about that. Lots of the boys 
said they thought, if they were detectives, they 
could find the robbers easy. And lots of others 
got to telling what they would do with the two 
hundred dollars if they got it. 

Of course, we talked about it, too, Rick and 
Dib and I, but I was sure we’d never get any 
chance at it, though I wished we could. I knew 
it would be very easy for any thieves to fool 
boys, because I knew the people in the curiosity 
store had fooled me and I couldn’t do anything, 
even when I was positive they weren’t telling 
the truth. 

Well, I went out on the wagon again that 
afternoon, and we worked all the rest of the day, 
and when I came in again, still the policemen 
hadn’t come back. So then I made up my mind 
I’d go up to the Mercy Hospital the next day, 
which was Saturday, for we always have half 
a holiday every second Saturday, and that was 
mine. And I would see the little girl, if I 
could, and tell her all about everything, so she 


The Man Who Lighted Matches 155 

could tell me how I was going to send word 
to her father. I thought, maybe, by that time, 
her father would have come to see her, anyway, 
for it wouldn’t seem as if it could be possible 
she would be away from him so long, without 
his knowing where she was. 

Before the store closed, I went again to look 
for Moss, the blind man, but I didn’t find him, 
and a man who keeps a stand across the alley 
said he hadn’t been there that day. So I went 
back, and Rick and I ate our supper on the load- 
ing plat form, back of the store, after closing time. 
Then we started away for the church where Rick 
was going to sing at choir-practice. 

The church was in a part of the city that wasn’t 
very good. It wasn’t very far from a branch 
of the elevated railroad and some good streets 
were near the one it stood on, but most of the 
people who lived near it were poor people and 
the church was for them. Rick and some of 
the other boys went there because their folks 
wanted them to learn to sing, and the man who 


156 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

played the organ in that church taught them free 
to pay them for singing Sundays in church. Rick 
was one of the best of them all, too. I found 
out, that night, that he could sing better than 
lots of people I’ve heard, and everybody else 
around there thought so, too. 

But it was the queer thing that happened — a. 
very lucky thing — that made that time of the 
choir-practice have anything to do with this story. 
I liked to hear the boys sing when they were 
all singing together, and I liked to hear Rick 
alone, but when some of the others were singing 
I got tired and looked around for something else 
to do. I got interested in watching the man at 
the organ and I watched him pulling the stops 
and working pedals and things, till I thought 
maybe if I could get up in back of the organ, 
I could see how it all worked and how it made 
the music different at different times. 

I was sitting down in the church where it was 
dark, for there wasn’t any light anywhere except 
up where the boys were. But I’d seen the door 


The Man Who Lighted Matches 157 

at the side of the loft where you could go in 
behind the organ, so I thought Fd try and see 
if I could get in, and I did. I left the seat where 
I was and kept out of the light where it fell 
in the aisle, and then climbed up the little stairs 
and so back into a dark hole of a place where 
everything smelled dry and dusty and queer. 

I’d never been in an organ before and was sort 
of puzzled, but I found a light around at the back 
at last, and then I was there quite a while, watch- 
ing the bellows, that was worked by a water- 
motor, and trying to see what the stops all did. 
The music roars so inside an organ that it al- 
most makes you deaf, like a big bell or a cannon 
when you stand close to it, but I got used to it 
after a while. But by-and-by I climbed up a 
ladder there was in there to see things up ^t the 
top, and when I’d got up quite a little way, I 
found an open window in the back of the church. 

I looked out and found that there was an 
alley right down under me. I couldn’t see very 
well, but I could make out things like shadows. 


158 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

I could tell there were boxes and barrels and ash- 
cans and things like that, and there were spots 
that looked white where paper was lying around, 
but for quite a few minutes I didn’t see any- 
thing move. It was so quiet and dark, and 
the air and the darkness seemed so soft and so 
sort of mysterious, that I just looked and 
looked, and wished the moon would come out so 
I could see. 

All at once, while the organ was -quiet for a 
minute, I heard somebody coming along the 
stones of the alley, just a little distance away, 
and I got interested very quick. It’s a queer 
thing. I don’t know why I cared at all, but it 
seemed to me that I wanted to watch and see 
how a man looked in such a dark place and to 
find out, maybe, what house he would go to — 
for the buildings were all houses, across the alley, 
and I had a feeling then that he was on his way 
to one of them. 

I couldn’t see him at first, but I heard his voice 
in some sort of a noise he made when he ran 


The Man Who Lighted Matches 159 

into something in the alley. I watched for him, 
but I heard him knocking about among the things 
for a long time, it seemed to me. First, his foot 
would hit a tin and it would rattle on the stones. 
Then I could hear his heels knock on the cob- 
bles. Then I heard a tapping noise, like a stick 
rapping on the stones, and it came to me all of 
a sudden that it must be a cane. And then, at 
last, I saw his figure, just something a little 
blacker than the things around it and moving, 
moving along slowly, on account of the darkness, 
but eagerly, too, as if in a hurry. 

He walked right under my window and his 
head couldn’t have been more than six feet from 
mine, I guess, and then he crossed over just a 
little further on and stopped. I heard him 
fumbling at a door-knob and then I heard keys 
rattle, and after that he seemed to work quite 
a while trying to find the keyhole, for I could 
hear him talk to himself and could hear the click 
of the key against the plate on the door. And 
then, right in the middle of it, suddenly the organ 


i6o Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

behind me burst out into a great crash of noise, 
and he jumped and crouched down and I could 
imagine he was looking up, straight at me. 

Still, I didn’t believe he could see me, for the 
light below was under a hood and a reflector, 
and I thought probably none of it reached where 
I was, so I didn’t move, and only stood still think- 
ing that the man was acting queerly. Then, 
after he found it was only the organ, he stood 
up again, and after a minute, all at once, he 
struck a light. And what do you think? I rec- 
ognized him in a second. Just the second the 
light fell on his beard and his face, I knew him 
as well as if it had been daylight, for he wasn’t 
the kind of a man you could make a mistake 
about. It was Moss, the blind man — and he 
was lighting matches to find a keyhole ! 

I was so astonished that I nearly forgot I was 
on the ladder, and I might have stepped back 
and fallen off, if just then the organ hadn’t 
stopped short again, and the strange and sudden 
silence made me think quick and remember. If 


The Man Who Lighted Matches i6i 

you’ve ever been in a mill, where the wheels are 
roaring, and then stepped suddenly outdoors, you 
know how your ears felt, and that’s the way mine 
were for a second, while I stood and watched 
that blind man find the keyhole, by match-light, 
unlock the door, and go in. 

I guess I must have stood there a long time 
after that. Of course, the first thing I thought 
was that he had been just pretending to be blind 
while he begged on the street, and that sort of 
startled me, remembering how I had talked to 
him. Then I remembered how he had told me 
he could know me by my footsteps, and I under- 
stood how he had fooled me in that. After that 
my thoughts went from one thing to another 
pretty fast. I remembered that he had caught 
hold of me pretty easily for a blind man that 
first time I had seen him. I remembered how 
he had known about the robbery before I’d told 
him. I remembered that he had tried to get 
me interested in a big plan for catching the 
burglar, and that the very last time I’d talked 


1 62 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

with him, he had told me to come back to him 
Monday or Tuesday. 

It all seemed hard to believe, for I couldn't 
understand what it meant. Of course, he would 
never let me know he could see, I knew that, 
and maybe the things he said to me after that 
first day had been just to make sure that I hadn't 
any idea that his blindness was a fake. But why 
he should try to make me come back and talk 
to him about capturing the thieves, I couldn't 
tell. It was crooked to take money from people 
who thought he was blind, too, and if he would 
do that, probably he would do other crooked 
things. And yet, he seemed anxious to catch the 
thieves. 

Suddenly another thought came into my mind, 
and it was so quick and so startling that it rnade 
me stop breathing for a minute. What if he was 
one of the gang of thieves about which Mr, 
Benson and the other policeman had talked ? And f 
what if he had just been acting blind, so that 
nobody would suspect him while he got things 


The Man Who Lighted Matches 163 

ready to rob the store? If that was so, then it 
had been he who had helped make the big rob- 
bery, and he had meant to get me to do some- 
thing for him or to keep me quiet till it was 
over. 

I was so excited about this that I felt I was 
growing hot all over, but just then I heard the 
boys of the choir all talking to each other and 
going down the stairs, and I knew the practice 
was over and Rick would be looking for me. So 
I climbed down the ladder and went out where 
they were, and found Rick and went out into the 
street with him. 

Rick,” I said, when we got outside, ‘‘ come 
away from the rest. Tve got something to tell 
you.” 

What?” he asked. 

“ Something very strange — as strange as the 
queer curiosity-store.” 

We walked back behind the other boys, who 
were playing along on the street toward the ele- 
vated road, and I told Rick all I knew about the 


164 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

blind man, from the beginning. Then I told 
him what Fd seen that night. 

“What do you think of that?” I asked, for, 
though Rick is a little fellow, he seems to have 
a lot of sense, and you like to hear what he 
thinks. 

“ It is very, very peculiar,” Rick said. 

“ Do you think he is one of the burglars ? ” 

“ You can’t tell, at all. It’s not possible to 
tell. He may be of them one, but it is that he 
is not honest, anyway.’’ 

“ It certainly is,” I said, not meaning to imi- 
tate Rick, but forgetting. 

“We can only wait and see in the daylight 
of the morning, whether he is playing at the blind 
man again,” answered Rick, not noticing. 

“ Yes. But he wasn’t there to-day — the very 
day after the robbery. What do you think that 
means ? ” 

“ What is it you call it — a coincidency, per- 
haps ? ” 

I didn’t know what he meant then, and I was 


The Man Who Lighted Matches 165 

a little ashamed that he knew more words than 
I did. I found out that it just means when two 
or three very different things happen so as to 
all fit in together and make what you are doing 
come out different from what you expect — that’s 
a coincidence. Rick didn’t have it just right, 
that was all. 

But I didn’t answer the question then. I just 
said, “ It’s very queer.” 

“ He may be innocent of any wrong except 
that only he deceives the people that he may get 
the dimes and the pennies,” said Rick. 

“ Yes, or if he is one of the thieves, they may 
be keeping the stolen things in that house.” 

“ Or, that may be where he lives at.” 

“ Or, perhaps that’s their meeting-place.” 

“ Maybe they are meeting there now.” 

I wanted to go back and up through that alley 
and look, but the organ-player came up behind 
us just then and made us hurry and catch the 
other boys, because he said he couldn’t have us 
alone on the streets, for our fathers and mothers 


1 66 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

wouldn’t like it. I knew mine wouldn’t, too, so 
we hurried on and took the train for home. 

But next morning Rick and I were both look- 
ing for the blind man before we went out, and we 
found him gone again that day. Father laughs 
at me for that last sentence and won’t tell me 
why. Perhaps it isn’t just exactly right, but it 
means what I mean. The blind man. Moss, 
wasn’t there. He wasn’t there at noon again, 
and, by that time, I began to think he wasn’t 
going to be any more. 

I guess my head was so full of all the things 
that had happened that I couldn’t think about 
work that morning. I know I delivered two 
things wrong, and Mr. Farley spoke about it 
to me afterwards. But one thing got into my 
mind, and wouldn’t get out, and that was that 
maybe I could find out, if I was careful, whether 
Moss was one of the thieves or not, and if I 
could, maybe I could tell Mr. Benson, and he 
could go and find out about the rest. And I 
made up my mind to keep still about it. I only 


The Man Who Lighted Matches 167 

told Rick that I meant to watch again for the 
blind man, to see if I could see anything else 
queer about him. 

When noon came and my work was done for 
the day, I went upstairs to look in the silver room 
again, to see if there was anything more I could 
see that the burglars had done, but I found about 
everything straightened up. There wasn’t any- 
thing left to show that there had been a burglary, 
except some scratches on some of the cases, for 
new glass had been put in and nothing else much 
had been broken. They were putting a new lock 
on the door, where the broken one was, while 
I was there, and business was going on just the 
same as usual. 

Then I went and got my lunch, and right after- 
wards I started for Mercy Hospital. I had to 
walk, and it is a long way from the store, so I 
had quite a while to think before I got there. 
Then I asked for the little crutches-girl, and had 
a hard time to make them understand who I 
meant. But at last a nurse came up where I 


1 68 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

was talking with a clerk, and she seemed to know 
what I wanted, so she took me right in, and in 
about two minutes I was with the little crutches- 
girl. 

But she wasn’t in bed, as I’d expected she 
would be. She was sitting up in a wheel-chair, 
by a window and looking out, and when the nurse 
and I came up, I saw her face, and it looked 
so white and so sort of anxious that all the feel- 
ings I’d had of being sorry for her came back and 
made me feel as if I could hardly speak to her 
without showing them too much. 

“ Here, my dear, here’s a friend come to see 
you,” the nurse said to her. 

Of course, I knew the little girl wouldn’t ex- 
pect to see me, but when she turned and did 
see me, she jumped so hard and her face turned 
so red all at once that I was almost sorry I’d 
come; but the nurse went away quickly, for lots 
of people were visiting at that time, and she 
had to see to them, and so we were all alone 
by that window. 



SHE JUMPED SO HARD AND HER FACE TURNED SO RED THAT 
I WAS ALMOST SORRY I’D COME. 



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The Man Who Lighted Matches 169 

“ How do you do? ” I asked, hardly knowing 
what to say at all. 

“ I’m getting better,” she answered, but she 
seemed a good deal more afraid than I was, and 
that made me feel better. 

“ I kept my promise,” I said. 

“ Did you ? ” she asked, quick. And then she 
smiled. “ Of course,” she said. 

That made me feel pretty good, because it’s 
nice to know that anybody trusts you. And she 
did me. 

“ But I wish you’d let me tell now,” I said to 
her. 

“Tell? Oh, no!” 

“ Yes,” I said. “ I couldn’t find your father 
and I thought ” 

But she interrupted me in the middle of that 
sentence. “ My father ! ” she said. 

“ Yes, I went to find him — to tell him you got 
hurt.” 

“ Oh ! Couldn’t you find him ? ” 

“ No.” 


170 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

Her eyes opened just the way they had at the 
police-station, and she seemed puzzled. 

“ But he’s there,” she said, at last, as if she’d 
just made up her mind to talk to me about it. 

“ Well, you see, I don’t know him and I can’t 
tell which he is.” 

“ Well, but they would tell you, wouldn’t 
they?” 

“ I didn’t know his name.” 

I went on then and told her all the things that 
had happened, and she listened just as if it was 
a story I was telling. She was interested, and 
she even laughed a little once or twice. But she 
got pretty serious before I finished, and when 
I got to the end she was staring at me, frightened. 

“ Then he’s gone ! ” she said, when I told her 
the dark-faced young man claimed not to know 
about anybody else being in the curiosity-store. 

“Who?” 

“ Father ! They’ve taken him away with 
them.” 

“ But he will come here to see you, won’t he ? ” 


The Man Who Lighted Matches 171 

“ No — they won’t let him.” 

“ Let him?” 

“ No.” 

“Who?” 

“ The men you saw.” She looked at me queerly 
a minute, and then she suddenly put her hand 
on my arm. “ Oh, I’m going to tell you,” she 
said. “ You won’t tell, I know, and maybe you 
can help me.” 

“ What is it you want ? ” I asked. “ How do 
you mean, the men won’t let your father come 
to see you ? How can they stop him ? ” 

“ They won’t let him know I’m hurt.” 

“ Oh, won’t they ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Do you mean the man with the beard ? ” 

“ All of them. They’re all in it together.” 

“ Well, but can’t your father do as he likes? ” 

“ No — not now.” 

“ But he’s a man ! ” I said, surprised. 

“ Yes, but he knows,” she answered. 

“ Knows what ? ” 


1/2 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“ About them.” 

“ What about them? ” 

“ Why, he knows what they are doing, and 
they know something about him — ^and they’ve 
been trying to make him join them.” 

“ Well, but what are they doing? ” 

“ Don’t you understand ? ” 

“ No. I thought they were selling curiosities.” 

“ They are — ^but ” 

She hesitated and waited and then, all at once, 
she commenced to cry like everything, and the 
nurse came running and asked me what was the 
matter, and I couldn’t tell. Then the nurse said 
I’d have to go, but the little crutches-girl caught 
hold of me and held on and said it wasn’t my 
fault she cried. So the nurse let me stay a little 
longer. Then, after she had gone, the little girl 
turned her eyes to me, and they were all brimming 
around the edges with tears. 

“ You will help me? ” she said. “ I’ve got to 
do something. Say you will help me.” 

“ Sure I will,” I said. “ What is it? ” 


The Man Who Lighted Matches 173 

“ Get word to my father.” 

“ I will,” I said. “ But tell me why the men 
won’t let him come here.” 

“ They’re afraid.” 

“Why?” 

She looked all around as quickly as if she was 
afraid to say it even, and then she bent over to 
me and whispered. 

“ They’re thieves ! ” she said. 


CHAPTER VII 


A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE 

I wasn’t so very much surprised to hear that 
the people in the curiosity-store were not honest. 
But when the little crutches-girl said they were 
thieves, an idea suddenly came into my head, and 
I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it before. 
Perhaps, if those men were thieves, — and surely, 
the little girl must know, — ^perhaps they were the 
ones who had robbed the store, and maybe that 
was why everything was so queer around that 
place. 

Anybody would know the little crutches-girl 
was telling the truth. Just looking at her would 
show you that, and then besides, she never would 
tell anything like that unless it was so, because 
it would be foolish. 

“ Then that’s why you didn’t want to tell where 

you lived ? ” I asked her. 

174 


A Strange Disappearance 175 

“ Of course,” she said. “ If they went there 
to find father there would be sure to be some 
trouble, and then he would have been in it with 
the others.” 

“ But how can they keep him from getting 
away from them? Do they keep him in the 
house ? ” 

“ No, but they watch him.” 

She was crying again now, but softly, looking 
out of the window and trying not to let anybody, 
even me, see her. 

“But your father won’t join them?” I asked, 
wondering very much. 

“ No, but, oh. I’m afraid he will do something 
that will get him in with them. He did some- 
thing once — oh! I can’t tell you. He doesn’t 
know that I know it. And they try so hard to 
make him join them, and he is so poor and so 
discouraged and so mad at everybody because he 
has to work so hard and is sick a good deal.” 

That seemed a queer reason for being mad at 
everybody, but I didn’t say anything about it. 


176 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“ But he’s so good to me,” she added, after a 
minute. “ He thinks so much of Fred and me.” 

“ Who’s Fred?” I asked. 

“ He’s my bi'Other. Father is so afraid Fred 
will ever get in with these men that he won’t let 
him come home at all. It seems strange, doesn’t 
it, when he is thinking all the time — I know he 
thinks so — that maybe he will join them him- 
self. And he doesn’t think I know anything 
about it.” 

I didn’t know what to say then. It seemed so 
kind of impossible to me. Just think, if your 
father was thinking maybe he’d be a thief ! Why, 
it didn’t seem as if any man could ever think 
about such a thing. But, of course, some boys’ 
fathers aren’t always like your own father — 
and it makes you very sorry for them — for the 
boys, I mean. I had to think quite a few minutes 
though, before I could believe that the little 
crutches-girl’s father could be such a man as she 
said. 

“ Where is your brother ? ” I asked her, at last. 


A Strange Disappearance 177 

“ He works in a store, down town.” 

“ Couldn’t I take word to him ? ” 

She looked at me very queerly for a minute, 
and then she turned away again. 

“ No,” she answered, “ I don’t know just what 
store it is he works in.” 

“ Oh ! ” I said. “ Well, then, you just let me 
take word to your father — I’ll get it to him.” 

“If I could only walk!” she said, and the 
tears began to run out of her eyes again, only 
now they were still and quiet and she didn’t sob. 

“ Can’t you ever ? ” I asked. I couldn’t help 
asking her, because it seemed awfully mean not 
to say anything, and I wanted to know if some- 
body couldn’t do something for her. 

She didn’t answer for a minute, then she 
turned and looked at me again, and her eyes 
were big and round and sort of scared, as they’d 
been when she made me promise not to tell where 
she lived, only in a different way. 

“ I guess not,” she said. 

“ Did you ask the doctor ? ” 


178 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“ Yes.” 

“ Is your back worse, because you got hurt? ” 

“ No.” 

“ What did the doctor say ? ” 

“ Not very much.” 

“ Did he say you couldn’t ever walk ? ” 

“ Oh, I can walk with crutches.” 

It seemed as if she was trying not to tell 
me what the doctor said, and I wondered why. 
But it made me think that maybe I could ask 
the nurse about her. I thought probably her 
father would ask me. 

“ How shall I find your father ? ” I asked her. 

“ He works in a cigar-store on the corner.” 

“ What’s his name? ” 

“ His name is ” Then she stopped. “ You 

aren’t going to tell, are you?” 

“ No, of course not.” 

“ His name is Midgley.” 

“ Midgley ! ” It startled me to hear her say 
that name. 


“Yes. Why?” 


A Strange Disappearance 179 

“ Does your brother work at Fleming’s? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“A boy by that name works there. I know 
him.” 

I didn’t want to say any more about him, be- 
cause maybe Midgy was her brother, though it 
seemed very queer if it was so. 

“Oh, do you?” she asked. “Well, ask him 
if he has a sister by the name of Flora.” 

“ Is that your name ? ” 

“ Yes. And if he says yes, you can tell him 
about me being up here at the hospital.” 

“ All right,” I said. 

But I felt pretty bad then. I didn’t know where 
Midgy was now, for, of course, he had left the 
store that very day and I hadn’t any idea where 
to look for him. But I made up my mind to 
try to find him and know whether he was the 
little girl’s brother or not. And if I couldn’t find 
him, I could go to her father now. 

Well, we didn’t talk very much more, for I 
wanted to hurry, and when the nurse came by 


i8o Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

pretty soon, I asked her to show me the way out. 
Then I said good-by to Flora, as she had told 
me her name was, and went away with the nurse 
and out of the ward. 

“Will you tell me something?” I asked the 
nurse, while we were going downstairs. 

“ What do you want to know ? ” she said, smil- 
ing like a very nice kind of person. 

“ Can the little crutches-girl ever walk? ” 

“ Is that what you call her ? ” the nurse asked. 

“ I mean Flora ! ” I said, quick. 

Then the nurse stopped on the stairs and looked 
at me. 

“ Do you know her father ? ” she asked. 

“ I’m going to see him,” I said. 

“ You tell him, then,” she answered, “ that Dr. 
Carter thinks she could get well and walk all right, 
if she had an operation.” 

That made my heart just jump, it seemed such 
a good thing after all the other things I’d heard 
about the little girl. But I could hardly believe 
it at first. 


A Strange Disappearance i8i 

“ Do you mean she could get so she wouldn’t 
need to walk on crutches any more? ” 

“Yes. One of the bones in her spine is out 
of place, and if it can be put back she might walk 
all right.” 

“ Why doesn’t Dr. Carter do it ? ” 

“ He doesn’t want to undertake it, but he wants 
to get a great surgeon who knows how better.” 

“ Well, then, why don’t they do it right 
away ? ” 

“You don’t understand, do you?” she said, 
smiling again. “ Great surgeons can’t work for 
nothing. It costs a great deal of money to have 
an operation.” 

“ How much would this cost ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know — maybe three or four hun- 
dred dollars.” 

That just about made me discouraged. I knew 
they didn’t have any money. That was what 
Flora said made her father so mad at everybody. 
But I made up my mind to tell him about it, and 
maybe he could get the money somewhere. 


1 82 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

Well, I went away then, and I hurried as fast 
as I could, for there were so many things to 
think about and do. But I kept thinking and 
thinking about Midgy being the brother of Flora, 
and what I would say to him about her if I could 
find him. I almost ran part of the way down 
to the store first, and I went in and asked Mr. 
Farley, who was still at his desk, if he knew 
where Midgy had gone. He seemed surprised, 
but he didn’t ask any questions, and just said 
that Midgy hadn’t told him. Then I went 
around to the place I knew Flora meant when 
she said “ the cigar store on the corner,” and I 
found it closed up and a sign in the window, 
“We close Saturdays at i o’clock.” 

Of course, that made it so I couldn’t see Mr. 
Midgley till Monday, and I felt pretty badly 
about that, for it would keep the little girl wait- 
ing. But there was nothing else to do, but wait. 
Still I didn’t feel as if I could just go home and 
not send Flora any word, and I didn’t want to 
walk way back to the hospital again. So I went 


A Strange Disappearance 1 8 3 

and got a postal card and wrote on it carefully 
this way : 

Please tell the little crutches-girl I can’t see 
her father till Monday, because the store is 
closed.” 

And then I didn’t know how to address it, 
because I didn’t know anybody’s name except 
Flora’s and it would be just the same as telling 
them if I wrote that on the card. But at last 
I remembered Dr. Carter and I wrote it to him 
at the hospital. Then I went home, and it seemed 
as if I’d hardly ever been there before, because 
I’d been so busy with all the things happening 
that I’d hardly had time to think about the things 
at home. 

It seemed a long time till Monday, though, 
just as it always does when you’re very much 
excited about something that’s going to hap- 
pen. Probably if I’d known what really was 
going to happen, I wouldn’t have been in such 
a hurry for the time to pass. But, of course, I 
didn’t. 


184 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

Well, Monday morning I went to the cig^r 
store to look for Mr. Midgley. I had to wait 
till just before our wagon was ready to go out, 
so I was a little late getting there. But when 
I asked for Mr. Midgley, they pointed to a man 
working there who looked so much like the 
crutches-girl that maybe I would have known he 
was her father if I’d just seen him anywhere. 
He had the same kind of white eyelids that she 
had. So I went up to him and spoke right away. 

“Are you Mr. Midgley? ” I asked him. 

“ Yes, sir, I am,” he said, “ And who might 
you be? ” 

“ I’m Witter Whitehead. I work at Flem- 
ing’s. Did they tell you that your little girl 
Flora got hurt ? ” 

He jumped very quick, and then leaned down 
and looked at me. 

“ Hurt ? ” he asked. “ Flora hurt ? ” 

“ Yes,” I answered. “ I told the old man with 
the beard to tell you.” 

“You did?” 


A Strange Disappearance 185 

He was excited and he talked loud, but, all 
of a sudden, he looked around at the other men 
in the store and saw that they were looking. 

“ Come here,” he said, and took hold of my 
shoulder and pushed me out into a back room, 
for the door was right at his side. “ Now,” he 
went on, “ what about the girl ? Tell me that 
again.” 

“ She’s at Mercy Hospital. She’s hurt — ^got 
hurt in a runaway I was in. They sent me 
to tell you.” 

“ Is she much hurt? ” 

I could see the anxious look in his face, and 
I felt better about the little girl then, because 
I thought he would take care of her. 

“ No,” I said, “ I think she is going to be all 
right.” Then I happened to remember what 
the nurse said. “ If she could have an opera- 
tion it would make her walk again, without 
the crutches.” 

“ How do you know ? ” He looked at me 
sharp. 


1 86 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“ The nurse told me Dr. Carter said so,” I 
answered. 

“ He did, eh ? ” He stopped to think a minute. 
“ What time was she hurt ? ” he asked, taking out 
his watch and looking at it. 

“ About eleven o’clock,” I said. 

His eyes opened wide, like Flora’s, for a sec- 
ond, then he looked at his watch. “ Why, it’s 
only nine now.” 

That seemed funny, for I couldn’t see what 
the time then had to do with the time she got 
hurt. But all at once he caught hold of my 
shoulders again. 

“ You don’t mean eleven o’clock last night, 
do you?” 

“ Why, no,” I said. “ She got hurt last 
Thursday.” 

“Thursday!” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“Well, but why didn’t you let me know?” 

“ I did try to.” 

“ You must have tried hard. Where is she? 


A Strange Disappearance 187 

Mercy Hospital, you say ? Why didn’t they send 
me word?” 

‘‘ They didn’t know where you were,” I an- 
swered, and I was a little provoked at him, be- 
cause he blamed me and the hospital people so 
quickly, when he didn’t seem to care at all about 
not having thought where Flora might be for 
four days. 

‘‘They didn’t? Why not?” 

“ Flora wouldn’t tell, and she wouldn’t say 
what her name was or anything.” 

“ Why not ? ” he asked, sharp. 

I felt caught, all at once. I couldn’t say I 
didn’t know, because Flora had told me, and I 
couldn’t tell him the reason she’d told me, be- 
cause maybe that would get her into trouble. I 
had to wait a minute before I could think what 
to say. 

“ I guess she had a reason that she didn’t 
want to tell, either,” I answered him at last. But 
as I looked up at him and he looked straight 
down into my eyes, I couldn’t help blushing. I 


1 88 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

felt my face grow hotter and hotter while I 
looked at him. And then, all at once, he turned 
sort of half away from me, and towards a 
window there was there, and his face commenced 
to get red, too — I was sure it did. But, of 
course, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking 
about. It might have been because he thought 
that I didn’t believe he was good to Flora. Then, 
suddenly, he turned to me again. 

‘^How’d you happen to tell Benedict, then?” 
he asked. 

“ Who’s Benedict ? ” I asked. 

“ Oh,” he said, and stopped. Then he went 
on. “ How’d you happen to tell anybody ? How 
did you know where to go ? ” 

“ I’m the boy who ran through your back hall 
one night last week,” I said, “ and you chased 
me up the stairs.” 

“ Oh,” he said again, “ you are, eh ? ” 

“ Yes, and I saw the little girl Flora that 
night. Then when she got hurt, I came to tell 
somebody.” 


A Strange Disappearance 189 

Then I told him all the things that had hap- 
pened. 

“ No,” he said, when I asked him, at the 
end, “ nobody told me the girl was hurt. They 
said she’d gone to her aunt, over on the North 
Side.” 

“ Then you’ll go and see her ? ” I asked. 

“ Yes,” he answered. “ That is — yes. I’ll go.” 

He spoke like that, just as if he wasn’t very 
sure, but wanted to make me think he was. But 
I’d said all I could and I had to hurry back. 
So I just said I must go and he let me out a 
side door and I walked back to the store, think- 
ing I wouldn’t want to have him for a father. 

Well, out on the wagon that day I told Rick 
some more, and we talked quite a while, till at 
last he asked me why I didn’t come with him 
again Wednesday night, when there was going 
to be another choir-practice, and I could look 
at that house where the blind man was again. 
So I said maybe I would. Then I happened to 
think perhaps if I’d stay with Rick one night. 


190 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

we could get away from the organ-player and go 
and see what that house looked like before we 
went home. Rick lived nearer the church than 
I did, a good deal, and so I wouldn’t have to be 
so late getting home that anybody would think 
about it. 

I didn’t say anything just at first, because I 
wanted to think. And after a while I thought 
how much better it would be to have two nights 
to look than just one, because we might not 
see anything the first night; so when we got 
back to the store I spoke to Rick about it, and 
he was very glad, and said he knew his mother 
would like to have me. So I said I would ask 
my mother that night if I could go, and we 
would get a chance to watch Tuesday and 
Wednesday nights. 

That afternoon, though, another queer thing 
came to mix me all up about what to think. 
We drove out on our trip, not very far from 
the hospital, and I thought I would take just 
a minute to run in and see the little girl. So 


A Strange Disappearance 191 

I did. That is, I went over to the hospital door 
and asked the clerk I’d seen there before if 
I could go up and see Flora. 

“ No,” he said. “ I guess you can’t — because 
she isn’t here any more.” 

“Not here!” I said, and I was surprised as 
could be. 

“No,” he said. “She’s gone.” 

“Where?” I asked. 

“ Nobody knows.” 

“ Why, did she run away ? ” 

“ Hardly,” he answered, “ nor walk either. 
Somebody sent a cab for her.” 

“They did? Who?” 

“ Nobody here knows.” 

“ Didn’t anybody come for her ? ” 

“ Nobody but the cabman.” 

“Not her father?” 

“ No. Maybe it was he who telephoned.” 

“ Telephoned? ” 

“ Yes, this morning. A man telephoned and 
asked if the girl could be removed, and we told 


192 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

him yes, so he said he’d send a cab, and he did, 
with a note to the girl. And she insisted on 
going right away, and didn’t leave any address. 
Do you know where she lives ? ” 

“ I don’t know sure,” I answered. And then 
I started away. 

I was glad to think that Flora’s father had 
probably sent for her and that he was taking 
care of her now all right. And, of course, it 
must be that she was better of her hurt, or she 
couldn’t have gone away alone in a cab as 
she had. 

But when I got back to the store a greater 
surprise was there for me. Mr. Midgley was 
there, and so was Midgy, his boy, and they were 
talking with Mr. Farley. I thought, at first, 
that probably Mr. Midgley was trying to get 
Fred, as he called him, a place again in the store, 
but, just as soon as I came in, Mr. Farley called 
me over and I found it wasn’t that at all but 
something surprising. 

“ This man here says you know where his 


A Strange Disappearance 193 

little girl was taken after your runaway, White- 
head?” Mr. Farley said. “Where is she?” 

“ Why ! ” I said, astonished, for Fd told Mr. 
Midgley. “ She was taken to Mercy Hospital.” 

“ She ain’t there now,” said Mr. Midgley. 

I could only just look at him, I was so sur- 
prised. Fd supposed, of course, he had sent for 
her and knew all about her. But I could see 
that he didn’t know, for he looked so much 
worried. 

“ But you sent for her, didn’t you ? ” I asked, 
after a minute. 

“ No.” 

“Not a cab — this morning?” 

“ No.” 

“ Didn’t you telephone ? ” 

“ No — no, nothing. I went up there early 
this afternoon, and they told me she was gone. 
I have no idea where she is ! ” 

“ Why ! ” I said, “ so did I go up there. They 
told me you’d sent for her with a cab and that 
she went away. Didn’t they tell you so ? ” 


194 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“ No. A nurse simply said her friends had 
taken her away.” 

“ Didn’t you tell them you are her father ? ” 
Mr. Farley asked. 

“ No,” Mr. Midgley said. 

“Why not?” 

But Mr. Midgley didn’t answer that. He 
turned away and looked around as if he didn’t 
know what to do, and then he started slowly 
away, and Midgy went with him. I watched him 
a minute, and then I went after him to the stairs. 

“You do know where she is, don’t you?” I 
asked. 

“ No,” he said, turning so quickly that I was 
scared. “ But I do know who’s got her. I’ll 
hunt for her now, and when I find her they’ll 
suffer for this. They thought I was easy and 
that they could land me, but they can’t. They’ve 
gone too far, trying to get my boy and girl 
into it.” 

He was angry and excited, and I suppose 
he said more than he meant to. I looked at 


A Strange Disappearance 195 

Midgy for almost the first time, and he put his 
head down and his face got red as could be. 
And then so many thoughts came into my mind 
at once that I hardly knew which might be the 
right one. But the one that stayed there was 
that Midgy himself was mixed up in some of the 
things that gang of robbers had been doing, 
and if he was, maybe he knew more about the 
store robbery than anyone else. Probably I 
showed in my face what I was thinking, too, 
for when he raised his head again, sort of daring, 
he looked just once in my eyes and then away 
again, flushing more than ever. 

But his father didn’t see him, and when I 
looked up at Mr. Midgley his eyes were all full 
of tears. I never saw a man cry before, and 
of course he wasn’t really crying, for the tears 
just came and stood in his eyes and didn’t roll 
out at all. He just turned and walked up the 
stairs, slow and quiet. 

I started to follow him, for if he didn’t know 
where Flora was now, I thought I ought to ask 


196 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

him if the blind man had anything to do with 
the man who had tried to get him into trouble, 
and, if he did, I should tell him what I knew of 
the blind man and where I had seen him. But 
I’d hardly started when I thought that I was just 
taking things for granted and that it might be 
wrong to tell him, for all I really knew was that 
the blind man wasn’t blind. I didn’t know that 
there was any connection between him and the 
men of the curiosity-store. And if there was, I 
didn’t know that Mr. Midgley himself, or maybe 
Fred, wouldn’t warn Moss or some of the others 
if they knew that I knew so much. So I sort of 
hesitated what to do, and while I waited, they 
got into the crowd and were gone. 

Then I was sorry, for I remembered how 
anxious and sorry Mr. Midgley looked, and how 
much worse he must feel than he showed. And 
I felt terribly about the little girl who must be 
in the hands of those men, — Moss and the others. 
And so I ran up the stairs and tried to find 
Midgy and his father. But, though I looked 


A Strange Disappearance 197 

and looked, J couldn’t. Then I knew I had been 
foolish to be so very suspicious, just when I 
ought to have told all I knew to help. 

I went home feeling pretty badly that night, 
after the store closed, because I didn’t know how 
to find Mr. Midgley and let him know, and be- 
cause now the little girl would have to be with 
those men all night anyway before her father 
would know how to begin to look for her. But 
it all made me more anxious than ever to go 
home with Rick and get another chance to watch 
the house where the blind man had been. 

I had told Rick that if I could come I would 
meet him at the door of the church where he 
sang, at half-past seven, and then we could look 
around. So when mother said I might go, after 
I told her Rick and I were getting up a scheme 
together that we wanted to talk about, I started 
off, and at half-past seven I was at the church. 

But Rick didn’t get there on time, and I 
thought, while I was waiting, I would just go 
around in the other street, back of the church. 


198 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

and see what the front of the houses there 
looked like. So I did. It wasn’t very dark at 
that time, but it was getting darker all the time, 
so I thought I could walk around without any- 
body’s noticing me. 

I left the church and walked down through 
the side street and past the alley. I thought first 
I would go into the alley and see just which 
door it was the blind man had entered. Then I 
was afraid if Moss should happen to come while 
I was there, he would know me and would be 
warned, even if he didn’t do anything to me. I 
knew I didn’t want to see him anywhere alone, 
too, because I was pretty sure he would do al- 
most anything if he was angry or afraid of 
being caught. 

So I went on, and when I got out in front 
of the houses that backed on the alley, I picked 
out one that I was sure must be the house Moss 
had gone into. It was a gray old place that 
hadn’t been painted for a long time, and all the 
windows had blinds, and all the blinds were 


A Strange Disappearance 199 

closed. It made me shiver to look at it, be- 
cause you could jusf think how dark it must 
be inside and wonder what kind of things the 
men did in there and how hard they would 
fight to keep people out. 

But next door, at the right, was a vacant 
house with a “ To Rent ” sign in the window, 
and, while I was watching, I thought it would 
be a good plan to go over and go into that 
house — for I could see a window open in the 
porch — and look out of the windows on the side 
toward the thieves’ house. Maybe that way I 
could see more, for perhaps a blind in the house 
of the robbers might be open on that side. 

I thought about it a minute or two, and was 
rather excited about it, but pretty soon I decided 
to try it, for maybe I’d have more to tell Rick 
then. So I crossed over carefully, when nobody 
was in sight, crept up^ the steps, and climbed into 
that open window. 


CHAPTER VIII 


AN UNCONSCIOUS JAILER 

I didn’t seem to feel that there was anything 
to be afraid of in going into that empty house 
until after I was in. But, just as soon as I was 
inside, where it was perfectly quiet and pretty 
dark, I began to think about all kinds of things 
that made me afraid, and I got so nervous I 
could hardly walk across the floor. I listened 
and I thought I could hear funny noises, as if 
someone was creeping softly around in the other 
rooms. There were little crackings and snap- 
pings of the floor, and the wind that I hadn’t 
noticed outside sounded just as if It was feeling 
and feeling around, like anybody does in the 
dark. 

The room I was in was a big one and seemed 
to be quite bare. There wasn’t any carpet, and, 
so far as I could tell, no furniture at all. Of 


200 


An Unconscious Jailer 201 

course, it would have surprised me to find any- 
thing like chairs or curtains, when the rent sign 
was in the window, but I thought about it, be- 
cause of the noises I kept hearing. But, after 
a little, I got used to the dark and the quiet, 
and then it didn't bother me so much. At least, 
I wouldn't let it, for I thought it wasn’t very 
brave for me to be afraid of queer noises in 
just an empty house. So I started to find my 
way around. 

It was so dark by that time that I could hardly 
see, but I made out a door that led into a hall- 
way, and I went out there. Then I looked into 
two or three rooms that were bare and quiet, 
like the first one, and which smelled dusty, like 
a hay-barn. And then, at last, I found the stairs, 
and thought I would climb up. I hadn't made 
much noise, for it seemed as if I'd better just 
creep around quiet, for fear someone in the next 
house might notice a person in the vacant one. 

Upstairs it was a little lighter, and I went to 
the windows in a big front room and looked opt 


202 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

into the street. Everything was quiet. Then 
I went to the side room that was next back and 
found a window looking out toward the next 
house. And I found that it was just as I’d 
thought it might be — there was a window with- 
out blinds in the gray house, just opposite the 
one I looked out of. 

I got down on the floor when I saw that I 
was opposite the gray house window, because I 
was afraid if I stood up somebody would see 
me by the light that came in from outside. And 
I just looked over the window-sill and tried to 
see what I could of the inside of that place. 
The window seemed to open into a hall that was 
long and narrow and ran away back farther 
than I could see. There was a lamp not very 
far frqm the window, but it didn’t burn very 
brightly, and showed only just a dark kind of 
carpet on the floor and part of the walls, which 
were white. 

Everything was quiet over in there, too, and 
nobody seemed to be moving about, and, after I’d 


An Unconscious Jailer 203 

watched quite a while, I thought I ought not to 
stay any longer, but should go and meet Rick 
and bring him back with me. So I got up and 
started to go out, when I noticed a door leading 
back into another room, behind the one I was in, 
and, as it stood open, I thought Fd just peep in 
there, too, because there might be another win- 
dow there from which we could see more. But 
it was so dark in there I couldn’t see anything 
except the faintest line of light over at the left, 
where I knew a window must be, with blinds 
or shades almost covering it. 

I made up my mind to cross the room and 
have one look before I went out, and, as I 
thought that room was empty, just like the 
others had been, I started quickly to go to the 
window. But, all at once, I ran square into 
something in the middle of the floor, and it was 
just high enough to strike me in the stomach, 
and I guess I knocked all my breath out. It 
hurt awfully, and I felt just like you do when 
you fall out of a swing and strike flat. I couldn’t 


204 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

breathe at all. I just got right down on the 
floor, and I thought maybe I’d die then, because 
I gasped and gasped and couldn’t get any breath 
at all, and it seemed as if I never could again. 

But, after a while, I got a little air and then 
a little more, and then all at once I could breathe 
again, and I just lay and breathed and breathed 
and felt so good that I didn’t want to move. 
Still, I was pretty sick when I did move and 
my stomach hurt pretty badly. But, at last, I 
reached up and felt around to find out what it 
was I had run into, and what do you think? 
It almost made me stop breathing again. It was 
a bed. 

Right in the middle of the room it was — 
that is, the foot end of it, and the head was 
against the wall near the window. And it was 
not a bare bed at all, but was all fixed with a 
mattress and clothes and things, and pillows. At 
first I was scared for fear somebody might be 
in it, but all the clothes were mussed up and 
pulled back, so I knew there couldn’t be, and 


An Unconscious Jailer 205 

when I got where I could look across it towards 
the window, I could see enough of the pillows 
to know that nobody’s head was on them. 

But I was frightened just the same, too, for 
I could see, of course, that somebody must live 
here, or, at least, stay here some nights. So 
I thought I must get out quickly, and I turned 
to go back the way I came when, all at once, I 
heard a noise, plain as could be, downstairs. I 
didn’t know what it was at first, but pretty quick 
I understood, for I heard a door at the back 
of the house open and shut and heard somebody 
lock it, and then somebody, or rather two people 
— for I could hear two different persons step, — 
walked forward through the back rooms into the 
front part. 

If I’d been afraid before, I was twice as much 
so now, for I knew in a second that I was caught 
in that house by the people who must stay there ; 
and I knew that I couldn’t get out as long as 
they stayed in the front of the house. Of course, 
too, I was sure that they would be almost cer- 


2o6 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

tain to come upstairs soon, because there was 
the only place where a bed or anything was. So 
I didn’t know what to do, only stand still and 
wait and listen and try to make out from the 
noises just what they were doing. It’s pretty 
hard, too, to do that. You know how excited 
you get when you are just playing hide-and-go- 
seek, to have the one who stands come very 
close to where you are hiding? Well, that’s how 
I felt, only worse, for I couldn’t make myself 
safe by running to touch any goal, and, if I got 
caught, it would be something worse for me than 
just having to be “ it ” next game. 

But they didn’t make me wait very long, for, 
after they stopped a minute or two in the front 
of the house, they commenced to come up the 
stairs. The steps creaked and made a great 
noise, and pretty quick I could hear their voices 
— deep voices of men — and knew that they were 
on their way to where I was. So, of course, I 
had to do something pretty quick, and I turned 
to see if there was another door that might lead 


An Unconscious Jailer 207 

further back in the house or around into the 
hall. I didn’t dare go back towards the front, 
for I didn’t know which way they would come — 
through the rooms, as I had, or through the hall. 
My only way was to get out into a back room, 
and then maybe I could find a back stairs or some 
way of getting out, which would let me get away 
from them. 

There was a door right across the room from 
the one I had come into, just before I ran into 
the bed. I could see a little better now, and I 
could tell that a door was there, because the 
top of it stood up into the white ceiling, above 
where the dark wall-paper came. So I went 
across to that, quickly as I could, and felt for 
the knob. But when I found and turned it, the 
door didn’t open, because it was locked tight and 
fast and no key was in the lock. 

Well, then I was in a pickle, for there didn’t 
seem to be any way for me to escape. I knew 
the window was too high up to jump from 
even if I had had time to get it and the blinds 


2o8 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

open. There was just one thing to do, and that 
seemed like such a foolish thing that it couldn’t 
possibly be any use. And yet, I knew I would 
rather do that than be caught. So I got down 
on the floor quickly and crawled under the bed 
and up against the wall at the head as far as 
I could. And I’d only just got there and in 
a place where I could lie still, when they reached 
the top of the stairs. 

But I seemed to be in a pretty bad place then, 
too, for I found a lot of queer things under the 
bed, which took up most of the space there and 
didn’t leave me any more than enough room to 
lie in. There were packages, wrapped up in 
some kind of cloths and all pushed in together 
there under the bed. I felt of some of them 
a little, for, even if I was frightened, I won- 
dered what they could be. It seemed very curi- 
ous to me that all this stuff should be there, be- 
sides the bed, in a house that had a “ To Rent ” 
sign, and which seemed to have been standing 
empty a long time. 


An Unconscious Jailer 209 

But the men came right along from the top 
of the stairs. They stopped at the door of the 
front room a second, as if they looked in, and 
then they came to the room next to the one 
I was in and looked in there. Then I began to 
hear them talking, so that I could tell what they 
said. 

“ The place is quiet enough,” one of them 
said. “ It’s a good enough place for me.” 

“ It looks like your kind of a place, Morse,” 
the other man said, and I just shivered, all at 
once, for I remembered that second man’s voice, 
and when he called the other one Morse I re- 
membered that Mr. Benson the policeman had 
said that was the name of the leader of the rob- 
bers. So I began to know right then that I had 
gotten into the very house these men stayed in 
and that these two were part of the gang. And 
the other man, whose voice I knew, was the young 
man of the dark face I had seen in the curiosity- 
store. 

There was a little while that I didn’t seem 


210 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

to know just what they said, when I was think- 
ing about this. I got so confused and scared 
to think I was in there, and it seemed such a 
very bad place to be that I couldn’t listen, I guess. 
But pretty soon I know they began to say things 
that made me think and listen. 

“ How long has this place been vacant, 
Morse ? ” the young man asked him. 

“ A year anyway,” the other man answered. 

“ And how long have you been using it? ” 

“About three weeks.” 

“ Isn’t somebody likely to get wise ? ” 

“ No,” Morse said, “ I never come by daylight, 
and nobody else ever comes here.” 

“ But how about the owner or the agent of 
the place? ” 

“ I’m the owner,” Morse said. 

That seemed queer to me. If he was the 
owner, then why didn’t he furnish the house up 
in good shape so he could live in it? But the 
young man asked that question just while I was 
thinking about it. 


An Unconscious Jailer 21 1 

“ Because I want people to think it is vacant,” 
Morse answered him. 

“ How’d you ever come to own it ? ” asked the 
young man. 

“ I guess that’s not any of your business, is 
it ? ” answered Morse. 

Well, while they talked one of them had 
lighted up a light of some kind, that must have 
been in that room, after he had closed the doors 
and the curtains of the windows tight. I could 
tell that by the sounds, and the light from the 
lamp fell across the floor into my room. But 
when everything was fixed right, one of the men 
— Morse, I thought probably, because it was his 
place — walked right up to my door and came into 
the room where I was. I could feel the boards 
shake under his feet, and I hugged down against 
the wall and shut my eyes and just shivered 
again. 

But he only came in after a chair, which he 
got out of a corner, and an old box that stood 
near the door, and he carried them out into the 


212 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

other room, so I knew they were going to sit 
down and talk. And they did. 

“ Now, Boyce,” Morse said, as he went out 
into the other room again, “ you’re to help in 
this thing. Benedict will be here pretty soon 
and bring our man and I want you to help us 
persuade him. He’s an obstinate dufifer.” 

“ What are you going to do ? ” asked Boyce, 
for that seemed to be his name. 

“ We’ll see, when Benedict comes.” 

I remembered that Benedict was the name Mr. 
Midgley had said belonged to the old man with 
the beard I had seen at the curiosity-store, so, 
of course, if he was coming there and the young 
man Boyce was there, then there must be a con- 
nection between them and the blind man Moss, 
who had come there the night I watched from 
the church. And if they were all in the same 
gang under this leader Morse, then probably they 
all had something to do with the store robbery, 
and maybe Midgley had, too. But while I was 
thinking about that, I thought, all at once, that 


An Unconscious Jailer 213 

the name of the blind man Moss was quite a 
good deal like the name of this leader Morse, 
and I began to wonder, all at once, if he might 
not be the same man. And then I began to listen 
to his voice, too, for I hadn’t recognized it be- 
fore, and just in a second I knew that I was 
right about it, for it was the blind man’s voice 
sure. It seemed funny afterwards that I hadn’t 
known it just as soon as I knew the young man’s, 
but that’s the way it is sometimes. You don’t 
understand things you ought to know so quickly 
as you do things you wouldn’t expect to. But 
the blind man had probably told me his name 
was Moss just to fool me. 

All this time I was pretty scared, too, that’s 
sure. But there wasn’t anything I could do but 
keep still and listen, for I wouldn’t dare let them 
know I was there, though I was pretty sure 
they would find me. So I just tried to hear all 
I could. 

‘‘ Now, this is how it is,” Morse said, when 
they were both sitting in the other room. This 


214 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

fellow knows too much and we’ve got to shut 
his mouth.” 

“ Sure,” said Boyce. 

Morse waited a minute, and I heard him strike 
a match, and pretty soon I could smell cigar 
smoke in my room, for it blew right in there. 

“ Well,” he went on, then, “ the easiest way is 
to make him rnix up with us in something that 
he won’t dare to tell about.” 

“ Of course.” 

“ Then he won’t dare tell on us.” 

“ No, but I thought he was already in with 
you,” said Boyce. 

“ He was mixed up with one affair and is 
afraid as death of being caught.” 

“ You said you had somebody to help at the 
store.” 

“ Oh, yes, but that was the boy. He helped 
me, but he didn’t fully know what he was doing, 
I guess. He isn’t overly bright.” 

“ Well, if you’ve got the boy in it, isn’t that 
enough? That ought to hold the father.” 


An Unconscious Jailer 215 

“ Yes. I guess it will help. Midgley thinks 
a lot of his children all right.” 

I had guessed that they were talking about 
Mr. Midgley before Morse said his name, and, 
of course, this made a good many thoughts come 
to me. Midgy had been helping Morse, was 
what had really been said, but Midgy hadn’t 
really known it. I didn’t see how that could 
be, but that was what Morse thought. Perhaps 
Morse had played the trick on him that he had 
tried to play on me, for I knew now that he 
must have been trying to get me into doing 
something that would help them when he wanted 
me to come again and talk to him about catching 
the thieves. Then I remembered how Midgy 
had blushed when I had seen him the last time, 
and I thought perhaps he hadn’t been quite as 
innocent as Morse said. 

But this meant, then, that they were going to 
bring Mr. Midgley there to that house that night 
and try to make him join them, and when I 
understood that I was so stirred up that I could 


21 6 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

hardly keep still. It was hard to keep still any- 
way, you may be pretty sure, because the floor 
where I was lying was a mighty hard floor, and 
you can’t lie in any position very long without 
getting all cramped up anyway. I moved some- 
times, just a little, little bit, while they were 
talking, because I couldn’t stand it not to stir 
at all. 

I had listened quite a while and heard quite 
a lot of things about Mr. Midgley, though most 
of them were things I knew, before I commenced 
to wonder about Flora and where she was and 
if she was in Morse’s hands. They hadn’t said 
a word about her, and I had hardly thought about 
her. But now it seemed that if this was the 
place the robbers lived in, maybe she might be 
around there somewhere, and maybe that was 
why they were going to bring her father there. 
They might try to make him join them so that 
he could get her again. And I remembered what 
he had said about doing things to them if he 
found they had been the ones who took her 


An Unconscious Jailer 217 

away from the hospital, and I wondered if he 
would be brave enough to face them all in this 
place alone at night. It seemed as if it would 
be a very hard thing to do. I know I would 
have been scared almost to death, and father says 
almost anybody would. 

But while I was thinking about this, I heard 
the men stop talking all at once, and they seemed 
to be listening, and then, pretty soon, I heard 
a noise downstairs at the back again, and, all at 
once, Morse said something I couldn’t hear ex- 
actly and they turned down the light, and one 
of them — I thought it was probably Morse — 
went out into the hall and down the stairs very 
quietly. 

I listened and listened, but couldn’t hear much 
for quite a while, but then I heard him coming 
back again and somebody else was with him. 
And just as soon as they got upstairs, I knew 
that the man they called Benedict and Mr. Midg- 
ley had come. It made me feel a little better when 
I knew Mr. Midgley was there, for I sort of 


21 8 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

thought he was not a bad man, even if he was 
mixed up with the robbers, and maybe, if they 
couldn’t make him do as they wanted him to, he 
could help me, some way. I didn’t know just 
how, but, anyway, if he was there, and they 
should find me, they wouldn’t dare do anything 
very bad to me, because they would be afraid. I 
didn’t know then how much they would dare 
to do. 

Well, they all came into the room next to mine, 
and turned up the light again, and then they got 
some more boxes and things to sit on. From 
where I was I could see now, through the door, 
just the feet of two men, and their legs as high 
as their knees, and I kept watching them all the 
time while they talked, just the way you watch 
people’s faces when you are standing up or sit- 
ting and talking with them. 

It was very funny to hear how polite Morse 
was to Mr. Midgley. 

“ I’m very glad to see you again, Midgley,” he 
said first, “ and I know the rest of our friends 


An Unconscious Jailer 219 

are, too. We haven’t seen very much of you 
lately, and it seems good to have a chance.’’ 

He waited a minute, as if he wanted Mr. 
Midgley to say something, but he didn’t seem 
to want to talk with them. 

‘‘ We’ve invited you over here to have a talk 
with you to-night, Midgley,” Morse went on 
after a while, ‘‘ and we hope you’ll be frank 
with us and tell us what’s in your mind. I’ve 
sort of taken a fancy to you and I’d like to have 
a good friendly understanding with you.” 

Then Mr. Midgley answered, and he seemed 
mad, just as you’d think he would be. 

“ You can’t have any understanding with me, 
Morse,” he said, right up sharp. ‘‘ You know 
why I came here. I didn’t expect to see you — 
all of you here together — or I wouldn’t have 
come. But now I’m here. I’m not going to have 
any more fooling about this. I’m not with you 
on this, and I won’t stand for any of your talk 
about it. I was a fool once, but I won’t be again, 
and I’m going to try to live to make up for it. 


220 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

I came here to find out what you’ve done about 
my little girl. I’ll agree to go away and keep 
still if you just tell me where she is, for, of 
course, you know.” 

" 1 know about your girl ? ” asked Morse. 
“ Why, how can you think so ? ” 

“ I know it’s some of this gang that got her 
away from the Mercy Hospital.” 

“ Mercy Hospital ? How’d she happen to be 
there? ” 

“ Oh, I guess you know ! Nobody but some 
of you ever took her away.” 

Morse didn’t answer for a minute, and then 
he spoke slowly. 

“ Well,” he said, “ suppose it was so. What 
then?” 

“ I want her,” said Mr. Midgley, angry, and 
I thought he was pretty brave to talk so straight 
to them, when they were all against him. 

“ Of course you do,” said Morse. “ I can un- 
derstand how a father feels. Perhaps we can 
help you find her.” 


221 


An Unconscious Jailer 

You know you can, and I want you to begin 
now. As I said to you, I don't want anything 
else to do with you from now on. You came pretty 
near forcing me to join you, because I mixed up 
in one guilty deal with you, but Fm through with 
you now. All I want is to have you let my boy 
and girl alone. I suspect you've got my boy 
in deeper than I know, but I can take that out 
of him if you let him alone. Now, where is the 
girl?" 

‘‘ Don’t be in such a hurry with me, Midgley," 
Morse said. We'd like to have you friendly 
with us. There's no reason why you shouldn't 
be." 

Isn't there? Well, there's reason enough for 
me. I've been a weak fool to let you do what 
you have with me already, and maybe I'd have 
been ten times bigger fool, too, if you hadn't 
tried to get my children mixed up in this. But 
now I see what I've been doing, and I and my 
children are going to get rid of such as you now, 
forever." 


2 22 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“ Are you ? ” Morse asked, slowly and quietly. 
“ Well, maybe you are.” 

“ What do you mean by that ? ” 

“ Just what I say ! Maybe you are and maybe 
you aren’t. Folks don’t mix up with Aaron Moss 
and then get away and tell all they know.” 

He called himself Moss just as he had to me, 
and then I thought probably that was just his 
way of saying his name. But Mr. Midgley went 
right on. 

“ Don’t think you can scare me,” he said. 
“ You can’t.” 

“ Can’t I ? ” asked Morse, and his voice began 
to get ugly now. “ I’ll tell you a couple of 
things, Midgley, and then, maybe you won’t be 
so brash.” 

I didn’t know what brash meant then, but 
father says it means bold — not exactly brave or 
daring, but sort of saucy-brave. 

“ Go ahead, tell me what you like. I’ve got 
some things to tell you, too.” 

“If you break with us. I’ll put your girl where 


An Unconscious Jailer 223 

you’ll never see her again. If you tell of any- 
thing you know, your boy will suffer as much 
as any of us and I’ll see that he does. Besides, 
I’ll get you for it, on that old count, if I have 
to wait a hundred years.’" 

Mr. Midgley seemed to be a little scared at 
that, but in a minute he said, “ You can’t hurt 
my boy, and if you don’t give up my girl. I’ll 
give you all up to the police to-night.” 

That sounded as if he was ready to fight them 
all right then, and I guess it frightened Morse, 
too, for he waited a minute before he went on. 
Then he talked slow again. 

Your girl is in a place nobody knows of but 
me,” he said. She’s safe, and if I happen to 
forget where she is, neither you nor anybody else 
will ever find her till she starves, for she only 
gets fed when I feed her. As for the boy, I 
can prove to you that he’s mixed up with some 
ugly things now. If you make trouble for me, 
he will go to jail as sure as you will, and you 
know what that means for a boy.” 


224 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

Mr. Midgley was quiet a long time then, and 
it seemed as if there wasn’t much of anything he 
could do, for I was sure he did think a great deal 
of Flora and of Fred, too, and if terrible things 
were going to happen to them, he had to do 
something to save them. How I wished then 
that I could get away and get to Mr. Benson and 
tell him what they were doing and have them 
all arrested, then. But I didn’t dare stir. If they 
caught me, they would do something to me, I 
knew, for they hadn’t any way to make me 
promise not to tell, except to hurt me some way. 
At last, though, Mr. Midgley spoke up. 

“ I don’t know why I should fear you,” he 
said. “ You say you can do so much, but there’s 
a law in this country and there are people who 
are stronger than you are. I can get help. What 
do you suppose Alexander Fleming would give 
to get hold of you, now ? He’s offered a reward 
of two hundred dollars for information. You 
can just imagine how hard he will be after you 
when he gets it.” 


An Unconscious Jailer 225 

Yes, I can imagine,” said Morse. But that 
wouldn’t do you nor your girl nor your boy any 
good.” 

‘‘ My boy knows I was coming to talk to you 
to-night,” said Midgley. He knows enough 
to send you to prison, and I believe he knows 
where his sister is. He is not in your hands, 
and if anything happens to me he will tell the 
police.” 

Oh, no, he won’t,” said Morse. I told 
you I could prove to you that he’s in with us.” 

I don’t believe it. Prove it ! ” cried Mr. 
Midgley. 

Without a word Morse got up and walked 
straight into the room where I was. I held my 
breath, for it was so quick I hardly had time 
to understand. And he came right across to 
the side of the bed, and I could see his feet 
between me and the light, down towards the 
foot, and then, all at once, he knelt down be- 
side the bed and commenced to feel around 
amongst the things there, and I felt so scared 


226 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

I could have screamed, just as I’d felt before. It 
seemed every minute as if his fingers were going 
to touch me. 

I tried not to make a single sound, and I shut 
my eyes, and just barely let my breath come in 
and go out, till I nearly choked, for he was so 
long about it I was sure he must hear me. But, 
all at once, the worst thing of all happened. He 
stopped fumbling a second, and got partly up, 
and then he stooped again and I heard a noise 
that made me jump and knock my head against 
the wall, and next second a match flared up in 
his hand and I saw his face, with the beard, 
and his little sharp eyes, without the goggles now, 
peering in under the bed, and all the face was 
red with the light the match made on it. And 
his eyes looked right straight over where I was. 


CHAPTER IX 


AT THE CRACK IN THE DOOR 

I THINK I wasn’t SO much frightened just in 
the minute that I was looking straight into the 
eyes of Moss or Morse, the man I had thought 
was blind, as I was before. I guess when things 
really come after you have been afraid of them 
for a long time, you are not always so much 
scared as you think you will be. But it seemed 
as if he must be seeing me, and I thought I could 
see him stop suddenly in the search he was mak- 
ing and see his eyes open in surprise. 

But in just a minute, as soon as the match 
flared up and got to burning well, he commenced 
to search again, pushing things about with his 
hands, and, at last, just before his match went 
out, he found something, and drew It out. Then 
he got up, blew out his match, and went back 
into the other room, and I knew he hadn’t seen 


227 


228 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

me at all, and I found, all of a sudden, that I 
was all wet with perspiration. So I must have 
been more scared than I thought I was. 

But I couldn’t see just what Morse and the 
others were going to gain by proving that Midgy 
was mixed up in the robberies, for it seemed to 
me that the more they troubled Mr. Midgley 
about his children, the more angry he got and 
the more it seemed that he would not join them. 
So I thought maybe things would end between 
them pretty quickly, and I was right, only they 
didn’t end at all as I thought they would. 

Morse went out into the other room and stood 
in the light, right in front of the door, and by 
moving just a little bit, I could see almost the 
whole of him, except his head, from where I 
was under the bed. Then he called Mr. Midgley 
over to him to look at something he held in his 
hands. When Mr. Midgley came up close the 
other men came, too, and they all stood around 
as if they were very much interested. I couldn’t 
see what it was Morse was holding, but it doesn’t 


At the Crack in the Door 229 

matter at all, for I found out pretty quickly that 
it didn’t have anything to do with Midgy or his 
father. 

Everything got very quiet all at once when 
they were all close together, while Morse moved 
his hands a little, and then, all at once, he swung 
his arm right around Mr. Midgley’s neck, and 
almost before you could breathe all of the three 
had grabbed hold of him and they were fighting 
and struggling and striking, with Mr. Midgley 
in the middle. And everything was so quiet — 
no one hollering, and not much noise on the floor 
— that it seemed almost like just looking at mov- 
ing pictures instead of a real fight. 

But it only lasted a second or two. I don’t 
know why Mr. Midgley didn’t call out to anyone 
while he had a chance, for if he had he might 
have been heard on the street. But he didn’t, 
and pretty quickly they all went down to the 
floor together with just one heavy thump, and 
next minute they had stuffed a cloth in Mr. Midg- 
ley’s mouth and had tied his hands and feet with 


230 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

a cord somebody found mighty convenient, and 
he couldn’t speak or move anything but his el- 
bows and knees. 

Then Morse and the others got up and stood 
around. I’d hardly looked at the others till then, 
but now I moved a little further out and I could 
see their faces, and they were the old man with 
the beard — only, somehow, he didn’t look as 
old now — and the young man with the dark face, 
just the ones I had seen at the curiosity store. 

“ What shall we do with him ? ” asked Bene- 
dict. 

“ Drop him in the ash-can outside,” the young 
man said, rubbing his face where it had been 
bruised in the scuffle. 

“ No,” said Morse. “ This is a good place 
for him right here till he changes his mind.” 

You wouldn’t think he’d really mean that, but 
he did, and what they did then was to get some 
more rope from a closet and bind him fast, so he 
couldn’t stir at all, and then they sat down and 
talked just as quietly as if he wasn’t there at 


At the Crack in the Door 231 

all and as if nothing very much had happened. 
They seemed to think it would be necessary to 
move away from this house, and, at first, I didn’t 
understand just why. But, after they’d talked 
quite a while, I found out that they had another 
reason than being afraid of the police, for Morse 
told them that all the plunder that had been taken 
from Fleming’s was in the house then and that 
it must be carried somewhere to be disposed of. 

I was pretty much startled to hear them talk 
right out about Fleming’s and the robbery there, 
though I was sure by that time that they had 
been the thieves. But they didn’t seem to care 
at all, among themselves or for Mr. Midgley, 
who could hear of course, though he was bound 
fast. And I found out pretty soon that that 
wasn’t the only burglary they had committed, 
but that they had robbed other places and they 
talked about them, too. They seemed to have 
been a long time in the same gang together, and 
yet the young man and Benedict seemed to know 
very little about Morse’s way of living or what 


232 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

he did when he was away from them. That 
seemed queer, but I could see that they had very 
little to say about what should be done and that 
Morse just bossed everything without caring 
what they thought. 

Well, after they had talked a long time, Bene- 
dict and Boyce finally said they were going, and 
it was decided to meet the next evening there 
at the house, and before ! could understand all 
it meant, they had said good-night and gone and 
I was alone in the house with Morse, and with 
Mr. Midgley lying bound and gagged, as they 
call it, on the floor. And what was worse, I could 
see now that Morse expected to spend the night 
there. Probably it is funny that I had never 
thought of that before, in spite of the bed being 
there, and all; but now I understood. I was a 
prisoner, just as much as if he knew I was there, 
and, by the way they had treated Mr. Midgley, I 
couldn’t expect anything when I was found, but 
that they would do as much or worse to me. 

But to think that I had to lie there under that 


At the Crack in the Door 233 

bed all night long just seemed to me like thinking 
of dying. I had been there so long then without 
moving more than my head, a little at a time, that 
I was aching all over, and the idea that I couldn’t 
get up from that floor till morning seemed pretty 
bad. I think it made me partly forget that I 
was in such a dangerous place. But, all at once, 
I thought of something that made me get cold 
all over. I thoug'ht maybe Morse wouldn’t go 
out of the house again till the next night, and 
if he didn’t, then how could I stay where I was 
all that time? Besides, I was pretty sure now 
that the things all around me, under the bed, were 
stolen things — maybe the things that were taken 
from Fleming’s; and if they were, of course they 
would be taken out to be moved that night, and 
I would be found sure. 

I couldn’t guess what the thieves would do 
when they found me, but pretty soon I began 
to wonder what my father and all the other peo- 
ple I knew would do when they missed me. And 
then I began to feel better, because I thought 


234 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

that, as soon as I was missed, people would com- 
mence looking for me, and then Rick would tell 
them all he knew, and they would come and search 
the house of the thieves. But, all at once, while I 
was thinking this I remembered that Rick didn’t 
know which house was the house of the thieves, 
and, if he did — why, he wouldn’t know I was 
there, for I had only told him I’d come to stay 
with him if I could, and he wouldn’t even know 
I had come. He would wait until he got tired, 
at the church, and then go home, thinking I 
couldn’t come. Then, in the morning he would 
think probably I was sick, because I wouldn’t be 
at the store — and then, oh ! I got awfully scared, 
because I remembered that father and mother 
would think I was staying at Rick’s house and 
wouldn’t even know I was lost, for two days, 
or maybe longer. 

I can’t tell you how that made me feel. I 
guess I felt the worst then of any time at all in 
this story, except once, which I have to tell 
you about later. I thought I was not going to 


At the Crack in the Door 235 

be able ever to get away from that place. I 
couldn’t do anything but lie still under that bed 
as long as Morse stayed in the house. If he 
stayed all nex:t day I might not be able even 
to lie still, because it was getting so hard for 
me now. And then, if I didn’t get anything to 
eat for such a long time, maybe I would starve. 
I thought this last thing might be so, because 
I didn’t know then how long it might take a boy 
to starve to death. Father says, though, that 
you couldn’t starve in one day, so I needn’t have 
been so worried about that. But I had enough 
things to be worried about anyway. 

Well, I worried and worried, but what do you 
think? All of a sudden it seemed as if I didn’t 
know just what had happened, for I found that 
I was opening my eyes and had been asleep, and 
instead of lamp-light coming into the door from 
the other room, where Mr. Midgley lay bound on 
the floor, daylight was just squeezing in through 
the shutters of the window in my room. 

It’s mighty surprising to find that you’ve been 


236 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

asleep all night and that morning has come when 
you don’t remember getting sleepy at all and 
when you hadn’t even thought of such a thing. 
You wake up and find it very hard at first to 
think where you are or what is happening to 
you, and it is very queer. And then, when you 
know it is so, that you have been asleep, it makes 
you feel that you don’t know much about what 
is likely to happen to you any time, and that 
you can’t always be sure that you can do just 
what you expect to do. 

Well, it hardly seemed as if it could be so that 
I had gone to sleep so suddenly and slept so 
soundly all night, but I knew it was morning 
and I knew where I was, and then I found out 
that I couldn’t move my right arm at all and 
that it didn’t have any feeling in it, except a 
queer sort of an itching feeling away inside 
where I couldn’t rub it. I didn’t know, at first, 
but pretty soon I found out that my arm was 
asleep. Father says it was numb, from my lying 
on it probably, but that means the same thing. 


At the Crack in the Door 237 

I almost hollered when I turned a little, because 
my back hurt me and my neck and my leg; and 
it seemed as if I was breaking in two all over. 

Then I remembered, suddenly, that probably 
Morse was, right at that minute, in the bed above 
me, maybe asleep and maybe not, and I just held 
my breath. And, while I was still, I heard two 
things— one was a noise downstairs, like some- 
body moving about there, and the other was 
somebody moving in the room on the other side 
of mine from the one where the men met the 
night before — the room that I had found was 
locked when I tried the door. 

It made me wide awake, right away, trying 
to think, and pretty soon I thought I could under- 
stand it. I thought probably Morse had put Mr. 
Midgley in the locked-up room after I went to 
sleep and that he himself might be downstairs 
now. Still I didn’t dare move around, for maybe 
the noise downstairs might be some of the other 
men coming in for something, and Morse might 
be still in the bed. But, in a minute or two, I 


238 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

heard the person downstairs coming up, and be- 
fore long he came through the outer room and 
into mine with a light, and I knew by the way 
he walked and by his feet that it was Morse. 
And he went straight across to the locked room, 
and I heard him put a key in the door and un- 
lock it and open it. Right away afterwards I 
heard him speak in a low voice to the person in 
there and he said something about breakfast, but 
the other person did not answer. 

Then Morse came out and locked the door 
again. Then he moved around the room in a 
way I couldn’t understand, till pretty soon I 
heard noises that made me know he was eating, 
and, at last, I saw him set a basket, like a big 
lunch basket, on the floor near the outer door. 
Right away after that he went out, leaving his 
light, and I heard him go downstairs again. But 
he didn’t leave the house. 

Well, I thought and thought then, trying to 
figure out what I was going to do. I really felt 
a little better than I had the night before, because 


At the Crack in the Door 239 

I was rested a little, I suppose. Then I found 
my arm was getting awake and my back stopped 
hurting, and pretty soon I thought about being 
very hungry indeed. It was really quite a while 
before I thought of such a thing as that there 
might be some more things to eat in that lunch 
basket, and that I might perhaps get some of 
them. I thought it would surely be all right 
for me to get them if I could, and then I began 
to feel that it would be funny if I should get part 
of the lunch that Morse meant to eat later. Of 
course, I hadn’t got over being scared, because 
I knew that I hadn’t very much chance to get 
away. But I didn’t seem so much afraid as I 
had been — ^perhaps I was getting used to it, or 
perhaps it was because you are never as afraid of 
things in the morning as at night. Anyway, after 
a long while, when I could hear Morse working 
and working away at something downstairs, I got 
so hungry just from thinking about that basket, 
and looking at it, that I had to go and look 
into it. 


240 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

So that was what I did, at last. Just as care- 
fully as I could I moved out from under that 
bed and crawled away till I could stand up. I 
was so stiff I could hardly do it at all. You 
wouldn’t scarcely believe anyone could get so 
stiff just lying still. And when I got up on my 
feet, I nearly fell over, because I was trying so 
hard not to make a noise and because I seemed 
to find it very hard to balance myself. Then, 
when I got so I could hold myself easier and 
found that I wouldn’t need to make much more 
noise — or it didn’t seem like much — I went across 
at last to the place where the basket was, and I 
opened it. 

You’d have thought Morse must be a very 
hearty eater if you could have seen that basket. 
I knew that he planned to leave the house that 
night, and, of course, if he did he wouldn’t need 
to live on lunch put up the way that was. But 
the basket was almost full of sandwiches — they 
were awfully good, too — with some oranges and 
some bananas and some cold boiled eggs and 


At the Crack in the Door 241 

some pickles — ^just like a picnic. It seemed to 
me, just as soon as I had smelled them, that I 
hadn't had anything to eat for at least a week, 
and I just took as many sandwiches as I could 
carry in one hand and two boiled eggs and an 
orange in the other, and then instead of going 
back and getting under the bed again, I thought 
I could stand behind the door out of the dim 
lamp-light till I could eat what I had and that 
I could depend on hearing Morse if he should 
start to come. 

Well, I was so hungry that I ate a sandwich 
and the orange and an egg very quickly, and it 
was so good that it was quite a while before 
I noticed that the noise Morse had been making 
downstairs had stopped. But, all of a sudden, 
I thought about it and stopped eating to listen, 
and my heart commenced to beat hard without 
my knowing why. I almost choked on that sand- 
wich I had, because I was scared so that I nearly 
breathed a crumb into my throat. 

I couldn't understand it at all, but I knew 


242 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

pretty soon that I was afraid someone was very 
close to me — maybe watching me. I turned my 
head around slowly and looked everywhere, and 
I listened and listened. There wasn’t a single 
sound anywhere. It was as still as it is always 
just after it has been raining hard at night and 
stops suddenly after it has waked you up to lie 
and listen. 

But I didn’t dare stir, even if I couldn’t see 
or hear anything. I was sure that if Morse had 
gone out of the house I would have heard him, 
but somehow I didn’t feel so sure that he 
might not be coming up the stairs then, with- 
out a noise. Perhaps he had heard me. And 
just as I thought that, suddenly I almost screamed 
right out, for, all at once, right at the crack 
in the door through which I was looking into 
the other room, just then, something moved, as 
still as a cat after a bird. And, in a second I 
could see that a man had come into the door- 
way, not making a single sound, and I could 
see his gray, curly hair and part of his ear and 


At the Crack in the Door 243 

his shoulder, and two of his fingers, where they 
lay across the crack. 

That was when I felt most frightened of any 
time at all, for he had come so suddenly and 
so quietly, just when I was feeling so safe. Of 
course, I knew it was Morse, even if the room 
wasn’t very light. And he stood still on the 
threshold long enough for me to know. I don’t 
know what I would have done either if he had 
stood still any longer, because it seemed as if 
he never was going to move again. 

But he did move at last. He started very 
slowly forward, and sort of half-crouching down 
he tiptoed into the room, and I knew then that 
he had taken off his shoes, for you couldn’t hear 
him step. I expected every second that he would 
look around, and then come and look behind the 
door, for I never guessed what he was thinking, 
but pretty soon I saw that he was watching the 
locked door and that nothing else interested him 
at all. And I knew then, surely, that he didn’t 
yet suspect anyone was there but Mr. Midgley. 


244 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

He was very, very slow getting across the 
room, but at last he was at the door, and he 
bent his head, listening. I simply couldn’t help 
watching him past the edge of my door then, 
even if it was dangerous, because I couldn’t stand 
it when I knew he was there and everything was 
so quiet. So I did look. He had his back to- 
wards me and was standing with his ear right 
against the door, and there he stood still again 
for ever so long. 

When he moved once more I held myself back 
behind the door again, as far as I could, and kept 
still, but he certainly wasn’t satisfied, for he 
didn’t move, and after a while I had to peek 
again, and there he stood in the middle of the 
floor — with his head in a funny position, like 
a robin, when it listens, as they say, to hear a 
worm crawl in the ground — and he seemed to be 
sniffing and sniffing as if he smelled something 
very queer. And then, all at once, he turned 
and nearly caught me looking at him. 

At first I thought he really had caught me, for 


At the Crack in the Door 245 

he came right straight over toward that side 
of the room, but next instant he had turned from 
the door and was opening the basket of lunch 
and looking down into it in a queer way, as if he 
knew somebody had been taking things out of it. 
And then I understood what a foolish thing I 
had done, for I knew he could smell some of the 
food very plainly in the room, and in a minute 
I knew it was the orange, for he began to take 
out the oranges and count them, and shake his 
head and whisper to himself and think. 

But at last he closed the basket again and stood 
up, and then he walked straight across to the 
locked door, and taking out a key, he opened it 
and went in. Then I heard his voice, low and 
quiet, but sharp with a kind of snarly tone as he 
spoke aloud. 

"‘What are you doing?’’ he asked somebody 
in there. 

I couldn’t hear any answer at all, and I guess 
there wasn’t any, because he seemed to be mad- 
der when he asked the next question. 


246 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

“I didn’t give you an orange for breakfast; 
where did you get it ? ” 

“ I haven’t had an orange,” was what the per- 
son said, but it wasn’t Mr. Midgley, nor any 
other man who said it. It was a girl’s voice, 
and I knew, of course, instantly, that it must 
be Flora. But before I could think it all out, 
a thought came to me that this was my chance 
to get away, and I didn’t stop to think that 
over. I just moved out as still and quickly as 
I could and just skipped on my toes out into 
the other room. 

I wouldn’t have stopped then, not a single 
second, if I could have helped it, but it was very 
dark and I had to move slowly, and just as 
I got out into the middle of that next room, I 
heard Flora suddenly make a little cry, as if she 
was hurt, and I waited to listen. Then I heard 
her again, and this time she made little moans 
and sounds, as if she was trying very hard to 
keep still, but yet unable to because he was hurt- 
ing her. 



AND THEN I UNDERSTOOD WHAT A FOOLISH THHNG 

I HAD DONE. 


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At the Crack in the Door 247 

It made me almost wild, I was so angry, all 
at once, to think of that man hurting a little 
cripple-girl like that, and I turned around, think- 
ing I would run back in there and try to do some- 
thing. Then I stopped to try to think if it 
wouldn’t be better for me to go on and get away 
and let Mr. Benson know where Morse was, and 
so get the police to come and save the little girl 
and her father and all. If I ran back into that 
room where they were, Morse would stop hurt- 
ing Flora, but he would have us all prisoners 
then, and I would lose the only chance I would 
be likely to have to get away. 

And just then Flora stopped crying out and 
I heard the door suddenly close and the key turn 
in it and I knew Morse was coming. I turned 
to run towards the door, and never thought any- 
thing might be in the way. I only wanted to 
get out of that room and down the stairs, and 
then I knew I could get away through some door 
or window. But, just as I was almost to the 
door, — for I could see it like a big, black shadow 


248 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

on the wall, — my foot suddenly struck something. 
I tripped, tried terribly hard not to fall, but 
tripped again with my other foot over something 
big and soft and still, and next instant I came 
down on the floor with a jar that shook the whole 
house. 


CHAPTER X 


TWO KINDS OF REWARD 

Sometimes when things happen to you, like 
that fall of mine, as I was trying to run away, 
you get just sort of stunned and you hardly 
know what you are doing; but, at other times, 
some way the accident doesn’t seem to bother 
you very much, but just makes you do things 
as fast as you think of them, without hesitating 
or waiting for anything. 

The very minute I fell there, in the house of 
the thieves, although I knew Morse was after 
me and would be there in about a second, the 
first thought that was in my mind was that maybe 
I could roll very softly on out into the hall and 
away from whatever it was I had fallen over, 
and then maybe Morse would fall over the same 
thing if he ran after me, and that would give me 
a chance to go on and get away. But when I 

249 


250 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

put my hand out to feel the way, for it was too 
dark then near the hall door to know really just 
where things were, I put it square on a person’s 
face, and, of course, I didn’t have to guess at all 
to know that it was Mr. Midgley still lying bound 
there on the floor. 

I could hardly believe it, but as I went on and 
rolled over as I planned, I thought faster than I 
ever did, I guess, and the thing that seemed most 
important to me was just to get out of reach 
of the door and then to be quiet till I could find 
out what Morse meant to do. And that was the 
luckiest thing I ever did, for what do you think 
happened ? Morse came running out of the bed- 
room and, before he’d got fairly into the room 
where Mr. Midgley was, he struck a match and 
held it up to see. If I hadn’t rolled on, over and 
over, quiet as I could, till I was in the dark 
hallway and away one side of the door, he would 
have caught me sure. But I had, and I can 
hardly tell about it now without laughing, for 
Morse thought right away that it had been Mr. 


Two Kinds of Reward 251 

Midgley who had made the noise trying to get 
away. 

Oh! ’’ Morse said, sort of hoarse, but quietly, 
too. So you’ve got some life in you yet, have 
you? I thought maybe you’d be kind of tired 
by this time.” 

He stopped and stood holding the match so he 
could see Midgley — at least, I suppose that was 
what he was doing, for I couldn’t see him and 
could only see the light of the match grow and 
flicker. Then he went on. 

‘‘ If you aren’t quiet,” he said, ugly, I’ll put 
you down in the cellar, so you see it won’t do 
any good to make a fuss. I thought maybe you’d 
be ready to listen to reason by now, but it seems 
you aren’t. I guess I’ll let you have a couple 
more days of this before we feed you or talk 
to you.” 

I wondered what in the world Mr. Midgley 
could think had happened, but of course he 
couldn’t answer a word on account of the gag. 
But just then the match went out and I heard 


252 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

Morse turn around and go back into the bed- 
room, as if to get another one. So I knew that 
if I was ever going to get away, I’d have to 
go then. 

I can hardly believe it all now as I am writing 
about it, for it seems as if a boy couldn’t hardly 
have such an adventure, and when I told father 
about it, he could only just say “ Well, well, well, 
who would have believed it ? ” over and over. I 
know if Dib or Rick had told me all these 
things, I’d have thought maybe something was 
the matter with them, and I know that now 
sometimes, when I think about it all, it seems as 
if I must have dreamed about it. But it did 
all happen, and, as father says, you can’t ever 
tell what may happen to you or what you are 
likely to do when it does happen. So it isn’t fair 
for anybody not to believe me until they know — 
and when they know they will have to believe, 
because it’s all so. 

Well, I was just feeling like you do when you 
play ring-goal or prisoner’s base or gray- wolf. 


Two Kinds of Reward 253 

or some of those games where you get very much 
excited and you do things very quick because 
you haven't any time to think of them. If you 
do the wrong things at such times, you get caught 
or something, but if you happen to do just the 
right thing, you surprise even yourself. That 
was how it was with me, about the rolling out 
into the hall and what I did afterwards. I hap- 
pened to do the right thing. I thought that if 
I took off my shoes, I could walk as quietly as 
Morse had, and so I sat up and unbuttoned them 
quick and then I got up in my stocking feet, 
feeling hot all over, with my heart beating so 
fast I could hardly breathe, and, before Morse 
came back from the inner room, I had found the 
stairs and was almost half-way down them. 
Then, when Morse commenced to light more 
matches and to talk to Mr. Midgley again, I 
didn't wait to hear what they said, but just went 
on, quiet as I could — and I couldn't even hear 
myself — till I got down to the bottom, and then I 
went right into the front room and to the win- 


254 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

dow where I had climbed in, at the very first, for 
I remembered it easily. 

The shutters of the window were pulled close 
together now and hooked on the inside, but the 
window was still open, and I unhooked them softly 
and opened them, too. The light shone in my 
eyes pretty strong and made them ache, the way 
they do when you look at the water when the 
sun shines on it, or when somebody throws sun- 
light in your face with a piece of looking-glass. 
But I climbed out and pushed the blinds close 
again, and then sat down on the steps and put 
my shoes on quick, though I couldn’t button 
them up because I hadn’t any button-hook. No- 
body at all was in the street and nobody saw me, 
I guess, and it was only a minute after that that 
I was away from the house and running down 
the street as hard as I could to the elevated 
railroad. 

I had eighteen cents in my pocket, so I could 
pay my fare, and I went straight as I could to 
the police-station where they had taken Prall and 


Two Kinds of Reward 255 

Midgy and me on the day of the runaway. On 
the way I noticed that my hand felt funny, and 
I looked and found it all covered with egg and 
bleeding from a cut between the fingers, which 
the shell had made. I wondered what Morse 
would think when he saw the egg and my last 
sandwich on the floor, for I remembered then that 
I hadn’t eaten all the things I took out of the 
basket, but that I must have held them tight in 
my hands till I fell over Mr. Midgley. 

Well, when I got to the station I didn’t find 
Mr. Benson, but they told me he was off duty just 
then and only lived a little ways away, and so 
I went to his house and found him. And when 
I’d told him everything just as fast as I could, 
he did things quicker than you’d hardly think. 

You can take us to the place, can you, son? ” 
he asked me, and that was the only question, and 
when I said yes he just grabbed me and we ran 
back to the station. They got out a patrol wagon 
and six men, and we drove away up the street 
as fast as the horses could run. I never rode in 


256 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

a patrol wagon before, and it is exciting because 
it always seems as if you must run into people 
and wagons, but the gong always gets them out 
of the way in time. 

When they got two blocks away from the rob- 
bers’ house, they stopped, and then I told them all 
just where the place was and took Mr. Benson 
to the corner where we could see it. Then he told 
the men what to do, and they all separated and 
went different ways. Mr. Benson and one other 
man — the one who had talked to him about the 
robbery at the store — went together. But they 
made me stay with the man on the wagon, be- 
cause they were afraid I might get hurt, and 
I felt disappointed about that, because I wanted 
to see. 

It seemed a long, long time before anything 
happened, and I could hardly wait, in spite of 
the policeman on the wagon asking me lots and 
lots of questions about what I’d done and all. 
But at last we heard a signal whistle and we 
drove around to the nearest corner to the rob- 


Two Kinds of Reward 257 

bers’ house, and there was Mr. Benson and all 
the others, and they had Morse and Mr. Midgley 
and Flora all with them, and a great crowd of 
people had come around and were all asking each 
other what was the matter and lots of other 
questions. 

But Mr. Benson didn’t answer anybody, and 
he just had the wagon back up to the house and 
they brought out all the things that they found 
packed under Morse’s bed and in other places 
and put them in, and then one man stayed to 
guard the place, while we drove away very 
quickly. I thought it was funny they didn’t talk 
about catching the other men in the gang, and I 
spoke about it to the driver, but he just said Mr. 
Benson knew who they were and that they’d be 
caught all right. And they were, too, both Boyce 
and Benedict and one or two others I didn’t 
know about, that night. 

I sat in the seat with the driver going back, 
and I thought Flora didn’t see me till we got 
to the station-house, but she told me afterwards 


258 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

that she did. She looked very white and scared, 
and her father seemed to be sick, for he couldn’t 
sit up. Mr. Benson said afterwards that it was 
being bound and gagged so long, and Mr. Midg- 
ley has told me now that he was faint as he 
could be for a long time after they let him loose 
and pretty lame for several days. 

Morse hardly looked at me at all, and I guess 
he hadn’t any idea that I had anything to do with 
the matter, till we got before the sergeant. Then, 
when I told my story there before them all, he 
looked at me all the time, till it got to be hard 
work to talk and till I had to look away and 
at Flora and to remember how mean and bad 
Morse had been to her and to her father before 
I could finish. 

And then the only thing Morse said was, “ So 
you’re the one that stole the egg I found on the 
floor,” just as if that was the only thing he 
was interested in. 

I hardly know all that happened, for it all 
came very quickly after I got away from the rob- 


Two Kinds of Reward 259 

bers’ house. I talked with Mr. Benson and with 
the sergeant a long, long time, till I felt all sort 
of hollow inside. But when it was over, I guess 
I had told everything that IVe written about 
here at least twice. I heard all about Morse, too, 
and how he disguised himself as a blind man 
because the police knew him and would have ar- 
rested him or driven him out of the city if they 
had recognized him. And he had been getting 
ready for the silver robbery when I first saw him 
near that basement window. And then Mr. Ben- 
son took Mr. Midgley and little Flora and me back 
over to the store to see Mr. Fleming. And Mr. 
Benson carried Flora in his arms, just as if she 
was his own little girl, while her father carried 
her crutches. 

I don’t believe I was ever so tired in my life. 
I guess we all were, and it was funny, but Mr. 
Fleming knew it just as soon as he saw us, and 
he made them bring us each a cup of coffee from 
the store restaurant before I commenced to tell 
him all the story. Then, when I felt better I 


26 o Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

told him everything I could, and Mr. Benson told 
the rest, and Mr. Fleming just sat looking first at 
me and then at Mr. Benson and then at me again. 
And his eyes were just as bright as they could 
be and he seemed to be laughing and laughing 
away in back of them, though he didn’t even 
smile outside. 

And then, right in the middle of the talk, one 
of the strangest things of all happened. Some- 
body knocked at the office door and, even before 
it opened, I heard a voice outside that I knew and 
that surprised and startled me. 

I understand very well — I understand very 
well — I understand — ^yes, yes ! ” was what it 
sounded like. And then : ‘‘ I want to see that 
boy. I know Mr. Fleming. I insist on seeing 
that boy. I insist on seeing him. I insist, I say. 
Fve had the police after him for a week, and now 
I’ve found him.” 

But before I had more than time to think who 
that voice belonged to, the funny little man, Mr. 
Peter Holborn — who had first accused me of 


Two Kinds of Reward 261 

beating the horses on the day of the runaway, and 
had been so sorry for it afterwards, — had come 
into the room and something was happening to 
make me forget how queer it was to see him 
there. The minute he stepped into the room, it 
seems to me, he looked first straight at Mr. Midg- 
ley and then stopped short and looked at no one 
else. And Mr. Midgley started up on his feet, 
as if he had never thought of being tired or sick, 
and they looked at each other as if each thought 
the other must be a ghost or something. And 
then, Mr. Midgley suddenly covered his face with 
his hands and just groaned out loud, and I knew 
it meant something terrible. 

Everybody was perfectly quiet for a minute, 
and then Mr. Holborn just walked slowly straight 
across the office to Mr. Midgley. 

‘‘John Midgley,’’ he said, you here?” His 
voice wasn’t loud then, but it was very hard and 
stern. 

It’s me, Mr. Holborn ! exclaimed Mr. 
Midgley, suddenly throwing his hands out as if 


262 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

he was begging for something, while his face 
was as white as if he hadn’t any blood at all in his 
body. 

And then, I can’t tell just how they said it all, 
but it came out very quickly that Mr. Holborn 
had been the lawyer who had helped catch Mr. 
Midgley in a swindling scheme Morse had 
started — a scheme to cheat another man out of 
his money — several years before, and that Mr. 
Midgley had got away before he could be ar- 
rested and had never been caught. Before I 
could hardly understand, too, Mr. Midgley was 
telling them that it was by threatening to give 
him up to the police for punishment that Morse 
and his gang had kept him quiet about them and 
had almost made him join them. It seems they 
were afraid not to have him connected with them, 
because he knew so much about them and might 
some day give them up. 

It seemed that Mr. Fleming knew Mr. Holborn 
very well, and both he and Mr. Benson remem- 
bered Mr. Midgley’s case, so they didn’t inter- 


Two Kinds of Reward 263 

rupt. But when Mr. Holborn began to talk, to 
accuse Mr. Midgley and to say that at last jus- 
tice would be satisfied,” and things like that, Mr. 
Midgley threw himself down across Mr. Flem- 
ing’s table, and lay with his head on his arms, and 
Flora sobbed out loud. And I couldn’t stand it. 
It seemed to me that this was so bad that noth- 
ing good which had happened amounted to any- 
thing. And without knowing just what I meant 
to do, I went straight over to Mr. Holborn and 
began to tell him all I had seen and heard of 
Mr. Midgley and little Flora. 

They all listened, though I hardly thought of 
anybody but Mr. Holborn then. I told him how 
Mr. Midgley had been brought to the house of the 
thieves the night before and how they had tried 
to make him join them. I told how he had said 
he wouldn’t have anything more to do with them 
and how he had been trying to keep straight and 
do right to make up for being guilty once. And 
then I told what they did to him. And then — I 
don’t know just why — I told them all about little 


264 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

Flora and what Dr. Carter had said about her 
getting well, and, before I came to the end, I 
was crying just as I did at the police-station, and 
I had to stop. 

But Mr. Holborn did a very queer thing. He 
stood and looked at me just as if he couldn’t 
tell what to think, and then he suddenly com- 
menced to walk up and down the room, and to 
blow his nose and wipe his glasses, looking first 
at one of us and then at another, but most at 
me and at Mr. Fleming. 

Well ! ” he said. Well, well ! ” And then : 

Well, well, well! I never saw the beat of this. 
I never saw the beat. I never — Fleming, what 
do you think of that? Did you ever — well, if 
this — I — I don’t know what to say, sir. Flem- 
ing, what would you do ? ” 

It was so queer that I had to watch him; and 
I guess I would have laughed if I hadn’t felt so 
badly about Mr. Midgley and Flora. But before 
Mr. Fleming could answer, Mr. Holborn turned 
to me and just astonished me. 


Two Kinds of Reward 265 

“ Barney McGinnes,” he said, “ I like boys like 
you!” 

I nearly did laugh right out then, I guess, that 
he should call me by that name that Prall had 
given me at the police-station and which I found 
out afterwards was still on the book there. He 
probably didn’t remember that it wasn’t right. 
But he went on very fast. 

“ I like such boys. Fleming, I like such boys. 
I like ’em. Do you know, I’ve a good mind to 
make a lawyer of you, Barney McGinnes? I 
never heard a better plea than yours here. I 
never heard — did you, Fleming ? I’ve a notion to 
give Midgely here the chance. I’ve a notion to 
put him on parole and see him through. I believe 
I’ll do it.” 

Parole means promise, and I knew he meant 
he was ready to help instead of make trouble for 
Mr. Midgley, and I was so glad I couldn’t say 
anything. I guess I can’t remember what any- 
body else said then either, for I looked at Flora 
and she was looking at me with her face all wet 


266 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

with tears, just smiling so that anybody would 
have been as glad as you can tell to see her and 
would have known she was happy. 

But Mr. Fleming got up and came across to 
me then, while he spoke to the policeman. 

“ Benson,” he said, “ I guess Holborn and 
Midgley had better talk this out alone. And 
this boy is tired out.” 

But he seemed to like everything I had said, 
for he was smiling and he put his arm right 
around me, just the way father does sometimes, 
and he motioned to the policeman to come. And 
he took me so, right out through the offices and 
down the elevator and through the store, while 
everybody turned to look and look, till I knew I 
got all red. And he kept on, just sort of carry- 
ing me along with him, till we got away down- 
stairs into the shipping room and to Mr. Farley’s 
desk. 

Well, it wasn’t a minute hardly, after we got 
there, before everybody in the big room was 
looking, too, and all the boys crowded up to 


Two Kinds of Reward 267 

us, and it seemed as if everybody knew already 
what had happened. I could hear them talk, all 
around us. 

“ There’s Whitehead ! ” 

“ There he is!” 

“ Look at him — with Mr. Fleming ! ” 

And then, all at once, somebody began to hol- 
ler, and in a second you could hardly think they 
could make such a noise — they were yelling and 
cheering and hollering for me. I could under- 
stand, of course, that they’d heard about the rob- 
bers and how they’d been caught, but it didn’t 
seem as if they ought to be hollering for me. 
And I got all confused and couldn’t think what 
to do, and so I could only stand and look first at 
them and then at Mr. Fleming, and try not to 
show how much I was scared. For it was just 
like being scared, I can tell you, and wasn’t any 
fun, for they wouldn’t stop for a long while till 
Mr. Fleming made them, so that he could talk to 
them. 

I don’t think Fll write about what he said. 


268 Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

because I guess I can’t somehow, for it — well, 
you can’t write that sort of things, you know, and 
it doesn’t matter anyway. But at the end he 
astonished me very much by talking about some- 
thing I’d forgotten all about, and that was the 
reward. He said he had offered the reward with- 
out hoping anyone would win it, because it looked 
hopeless, but he said he was proud and glad that 
“ one of his boys ” had won it. 

That made me feel mighty proud, I guess, but 
I wasn’t comfortable at all, even then, though 
I commenced to be very much excited, too, for I 
knew all that money — two hundred dollars — 
did belong to me, and I knew I was very, very 
glad because now father could get well without 
worrying about money to pay all our expenses. 
And then Mr. Fleming took hold of my hand 
and held it tight and looked so queer I hardly 
knew what was the matter, till he said something 
sort of soft and quiet about Flora. 

“ We’ll have to take care of little Flora, too,” 
he said then. That was just the way he said it. 


Two Kinds of Reward 269 

and I knew then that he would see that she was 
taken care of right. 

And then I went home. I saw Dib and Rick 
a minute, but I didn’t have time to talk to them 
till next day. I went home as quick as I could, 
too, for I wanted to see my father. You always 
would rather tell your father and mother things 
then anybody else, of course, and I guess I 
couldn’t hardly get home fast enough. I knew 
they wouldn’t be worried, after everything had 
all come out right, and I wanted to tell them 
about the money. And when I did, you ought 
to have seen. 

But it isn’t necessary for me to tell all about 
that. Besides, I don’t want to. It makes me get 
so I can’t see to write when I think about how 
father looked; and mother cried, and I guess I 
did, too, but I was glad — gladder than I’ve ever 
been about anything in the world, so that’s all 
I’m going to say about it. 

Well, they did cure the little crutches-girl — 
Flora, I mean — ^and I know her now. She lives 


ijo Witter Whitehead’s Own Story 

not very far from us, and her father and brother 
do, too. I guess Midgy is a different boy from 
what he used to be and the fellows like him 
better. I never knew just all about what he did 
with the blind man — or rather Morse, — ^but I 
think if it was really anything he was sorry. 
He had nothing to do with the silver robbery, 
though, and it was the watchman, who disap- 
peared, that helped the thieves get in. He was 
caught finally, too, and he confessed that he was 
the one who had made the first thefts and who 
had hidden the things in the box where Rick 
and I saw them. He intended to pass them out 
the window to Morse, who was begging outside. 
Mr. Midgley is a good man and the robbers 
never bother him any more, because three of them 
went to prison — Morse and Boyce and the watch- 
man — for Benedict did what they called turning 
state’s evidence — that means just telling on them, 
and they let him go free for doing it, though I 
don’t think that is right at all He was just as 
much to blame as they were, it turned out, and 


Two Kinds of Reward 271 

used his curiosity-store to sell stolen things from. 
But that’s the way they have to do sometimes to 
get the other robbers. 

And Dib is a driver now, and Mr. Fleming 
took Rick off the wagon and put him in the office 
for a while, till Rick’s father got a good position 
in a big orchestra. So now Rick goes to school 
with me, since my father got well and is work- 
ing again, too; and Mr. Fleming says when we 
get through he will give us another place in 
the store if we want it. And Mr. Benson got 
promoted for being the one to get the robbers, 
and I was glad about that, too, for it made things 
happen which maybe I can write about again 
sometime, if you like this story. I hope you do, 
because it’s been a lot of work for a boy to write 
it all out. 


THE END 



By JOSEPH B. AMES 

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they learn about Mexico. 

“ Will be welcome to many readers of mature years as well as 
to the juveniles for whom it is primarily written. ... It deserves 
the widest circulation in this country, and no public library can 
afford to be without it."--Boston Transcript. 

“ Very bright and accurate. . . . All the novel sights of this 
tropical land come before the vision of these children like a 
moving-picture show. They visit eight cities, and what they 
don’t see is not worth telling about. . . . Pictures are good and 
really illustra.te."— Mexican Herald (City of Mexico). 


If the reader will send his name and address the publishers will 
send, from time to time, information about their new books. 


Henry Holt and Company, Yorl^ 


In the American Nature Series 

For Boys and Girls from 9 to i6 

INSECT STORIES 

By VERNON L. KELLOGG, author of “American 
Insects/’ etc. Illustrated, 298 pp., large i2mo, $1.50 net, 
by mail $1.62. 

Strange, true stories, primarily for children, but cer- 
tainly for those grown-ups who like to read discriminat- 
ingly to their children, finding all the time something 
of point of view or allusion especially for themselves. 

“ The author is among the few scientific writers of distinction 
who can interest the popular mind. No intelligent youth can fail 
to read it with delight and profit .” — The Nation. 

“ They have that rare quality possessed by Kipling’s * Jungle 
Stories,’ which make them enjoyed by both old and young.” — 
New York Globe. 

” A learned and undisputed insect authority . . . presents a 
group of strange, true stories of insect life, primarily for young 
folks, but open to grown-up nature lovers, that are little short 
of fascinating.”— Record-Herald. 

THE FRESH-WATER AQUARIUM AND ITS 
INHABITANTS 

A Guide for the Amateur Aquarist, by OTTO EGGE- 
LINGand FREDERICK EHRENBERG. With 100 
illustrations, large i2mo, probable price, $1.75 net. 

This volume gives clear and complete instructions to 
the amateur. It describes, and illustrates by some of 
the finest photographs ever taken from life, the great 
variety of plants, fishes, turtles, frogs, and insects that 
may be kept indoors in health and contentment. It 
furnishes information concerning food, treatment in 
health and sickness, methods of capture and handling, 
and what aquatic creatures will or will not live in peace 
together. 

” Gives all the necessary information for maintaining any kind 
of an aquarium .”— Plain Dealer. 

‘‘Applicable to the smallest boy’s essay at keeping an aquarium 
and to the largest scientific collection .”— York Sun. 


If the reader will send his name and address the publishers will 
send, from time to time, information about their new books. 


Henry Holt and Company, vorl^’ 


STANDARD CYCLOPEDIAS FOR YOUNG OR OLD 


CHAMPLIN’S 

Young Folks’ Cyclopaedias 

By JOHN D. CHAMPLIN 

Late Associate Editor of the American Cyclopcedia 

Bound in substantial red buckram. Each volume complete 
in itself and sold separately. i2mo, $3.00 per volume, retail 

COMMON THINGS 

New, Enlarged Edition, 850 pp. Profusely Illustrated 

“A book which will be of permanent value to any boy or girl to 
whom it may be given, and which fills a place in the juvenile library, 
never, so far as I know, supplied before.” — Susan Coolidge^ 

PERSONS AND PLACES 

New, Up-to-Date Edition, 985 pp. Over 375 Illustrations 

“ We know copies of the work to which their young owners turn 
instantly for information upon every theme about which they have 
questions to ask. More than this, we know that some of these copies 
are read daily, as well as consulted; that their owners turn the leaves 
as they might those of a fairy book, reading intently articles of which 
they had not thought before seeing them, and treating the book simply 
as one capable of furnishing the rarest entertainment in exhaustless 
quantities. V. Evening Post, 

LITERATURE AND ART 

604 pp. 270 Illustrations 

“Few poems, plays, novels, pictures, statues, or fictitious characters 
that children — or most of their parents — of our day are likely to inquire 
about will be missed here. Mr. Champlin’s judgment seems unusually 
sound.”-— 714^ Nation, 

GAMES AND SPORTS 

By John D. Champlin and Arthur Bostwick 
Revised Edition, 784 pp. 900 Illustrations 

“ Should form a part of every juvenile library, whether public Of 
private.” — The Independent, 

NATURAL HISTORY 

By John D. Champlin, assisted by Frederick A. Lucas 
725 pp. Over 800 Illustrations 

“Here, in compact and attractive form, is valuable and reliable in- 
formation on every phase of natural history, on every item of interest 
to the student. Invaluable to the teacher and school, and should been 
every teacher’s desk for ready reference, and the children should be 
taught to go to this volume for information useful and interesting.” — 
Journal of Education. 


HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 

NEW YORK {ii,’o6) CHICAGO 


By MARION A. TAGGART 

AUTHOR OF “the LITTLE GREY HOUSE,” “ MISS LOCHINVAR,” ETC. 

Two Stories for Young Folks 
DADDY’S DAUGHTERS 

lUustrated by G. W. BRECK. ^1.50 

“Daddy,” an admirable, patient, “literary” man, 
who, like many of his kind, finds it a trifle hard to make 
both ends meet, and four girls, his daughters, are dis- 
tinctly individualized. More girls live on the other 
side of Daddy^s garden hedge and have three jolly 
brothers. Their adventures and home life make a book 
full of natural, lively young folks and their doings, yet 
tinged throughout with the delicate refinement of the 
sympathy between the artistic father and his girls. 

“A lot of sound, hearty children provide the proper sort of 
fun.'»-iY. y. Sun, 

“Miss Taggart’s pleasant story is admirably adapted, not only 
to the tastes but also to the needs of young girls. May be heartily 
Providence Journal, 

NUT BROWN JOAN 

With frontispiece and decorations by BLANCHE OSTERTAG 
^1.50 

Joan is an energetic, lovable girl, who has all the 
fun and most of the tro ubles of a member of a large 
family. Her experiences, when the cares of a house- 
hold fall on her shoulders, will strongly appeal to any 
girFs housekeeping instincts ; while her love of fun, 
and especially her friendships, will find sympathetic re- 
sponse in the hearts of older boys and girls. 

“A wholesome and pretty story of a family of young people 
not the least attractive of whom is their ugly duckling. Nut 
Brown Joan. Her pleasant fellowship with a boy nicknamed 
Darby is one of the nice things in this little homely history.” — 
Outlook, 

“ A story for older girls, well worth while, and one which it 
will be well to bear in mind for a gift at the holiday season.”— 
Brooklyn Eagle. 


Henry Holt and Company 

Publishers tiv/07) New York 


The Luck of the Dudley Grahams 

By Alice Calhoun Haines. Illustrated by Francis Day. ^1.50 
For girls from 10 to 16 years 

How the family were poor and kept a boarding- 
house; how they lost their boarders, and were poorer 
still; how Ernie, the little sister, persisted in looking 
for the lost “ Dump-Cart contract,” which would mean 
so many good things if only k could be found; and 
whether in the end she found it. There were funny 
things that happened, too; and these are also told. 

“ Among the very best of books for young folks. Appeals especially to 
girls.''— IVzsconszn List for Township Libraries. 

^ “Promises to be perennially popular, a family of happy, healthy, inven- 
tive, bright children make the best of restricted conditions and prove 
themselves masters of circumstances.” — Christian Register. 

“ By far the most entertaining book for children that we have read in 
many months^ . . . this healthy little book contains a genuine literary 
style, irresistible humor, and a train of episodes which cannot fail to 
hold the attention and delight the hearts of young readers.” — The 
Churchman. 

The Youngsters of Centerville 

By Etta Anthony Baker, Illustrated by Francis Day. ^1.50 
For boys and girls from 10 to 16 years 

Tells of the ball game, the prize contest, the exhi- 
bition, the parties, and other good times the Center- 
ville boys and girls enjoyed as part of the celebrations 
of the dozen important school and national holidays. 
These are good, amusing stories of natural boys and 
girls, their school and their friendships. 

“Boys and girls . . . full of mischief and as captivating as real 

children who are overflowing with an excess of spirit . . . especially 

suitable for reading aloud.” — Sfringfield Republican. 

“ Each story tells of a special way in which some school or national 
holiday was celebrated at Centerville, and brings out a special hero or 
heroine. The ideas are excellent, and the stories, brisk and full of 
humor, inculcate the love of country and rouse an interest in history. 
There are four good pictures by Francis Day, and it is attractively 
bound.” — Chicago Eveziing Post. 

A Book of Verses for Children 

Compiled by Edward V. Lucas. Over 200 poems from eighty 

authors. Revised edition, $2.00 net. Popular edition, ^i.oo net 

“We know of no other anthology for children so complete and well 
arranged. ’ ’ — 7 he Critic. 


If the reader will send his name and address the publishers will 
send information about their new books. 


Henry Holt & Company, ^N^l vork^’ 
















